


Iceberg

by Shinigami_Mistress (Southern_Breeze)



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Bizarre Doll - Freeform, Character Death, Conspiracy Theories, Execution, Flashbacks, Grelliam, Haunting, M/M, Memories, Mystery, Prison, Trials, ghost - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 19:31:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19116265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Southern_Breeze/pseuds/Shinigami_Mistress
Summary: Fifty years ago, Grell was killed while attempting to capture Undertaker. Since that time, William has tried to move on, but he finds that he simply cannot let go of the past. He is haunted by memories, words left unsaid, and by a bloody image of Grell which may or may not actually exist. While trying to deal with all this, William learns there may have been more to Grell's death then he originally thought, and the true murderer might have gotten away with the crime. If only there was a way for him to make things right.





	1. The Hearing

****_ Chapter 1: The Hearing _

 

The room was long and quite tall with handsome, dark wood covering most of the visible surfaces. This wood seemed to almost absorb the harsh, fluorescent lights, which softened the glare but also gave the room a dreary almost gloomy appearance. There was a single window high on the far wall but, although the small, square pane revealed a flawlessly blue sky, none of the sunlight seemed to filter inside.

There was little furniture or decor within the confines of the room. The wall opposite to that of the window was dominated by a large grandfather clock, the ticking of which filled the space entirely. A long row of stiff, hard chairs ran alongside another wall; facing a set of double doors. The only other sort of decoration within the room, and only spot of color, was a long, maroon runner which ran the length of the room.

William sat quietly in one of the seats directly across from the doors; his posture as stiff as the chair itself. His feet were flat on the floor and his hands were in his lap. He was staring at the doors with no discernable expression, but his teeth would occasionally grind in a barely audible manner. Although the aging process was slow for reapers, hints of gray had appeared at his temples, and the first wrinkles were lining his face. There were no laugh lines, but the lines about his eyes were obvious in this light, as were wrinkles that punctuated his mouth like parenthesis. His two-toned eyes still held a certain cold strength, but they faltered every now again as he would glance away from the door to look at Ronald.

The aforementioned younger reaper was pacing the floor with quick, hurried strides as his eyes darted all about the room. He looked exactly the same as he always had aside from the frown and furrowed brow line. He was muttering something inaudible as he paced, and it almost seem to fall into beat with the ticking of the massive clock.

“I wish you’d sit down, Knox,” William finally said, “Your pacing is becoming annoying.”

Ronald fell down heavily into the seat next to William and turned to him. “But aren’t you nervous?” Ronald asked, “I mean, I’ve never testified in a hearing like this before.”

“Nor have I,” offered William.

“I didn’t even know there were execution hearings,” Ronald continued, as he gestured wildly, “I mean, I’ve always heard of the threat, but I thought it was just talk. You know, to keep us in line or something.”

“I’ve only known of one execution hearing before this,” William said.

“Oh?” Ronald’s eyebrows raised. “When? I never heard of it.”

“I was only a rookie, and I didn’t have to testify,” William answered, “I only heard about it.”

“Oh,” Ronald repeated, but it was obvious that it was a statement this time instead of a question. He looked down at the floor for a moment and shifted his feet back and forth on the carpet. It made an irritated noise, but William only looked at Ronald’s feet briefly instead of saying anything. 

Ronald suddenly jumped to his feet again. “I don’t understand why I’m here!” he shouted as he gestured wildly, “I didn’t see anything...except the end.” He sighed as he slumped back down in his seat. “Why do they want to ask if the deserter should live or die? I say kill him. After what he did to Senior Sutcliff, it’s what he deserves.”

William ground his teeth again. “I don’t believe that’s actually what they will ask us,” he said, “Although I do not know for sure. I believe they are more concerned with his other crimes, and the fact that he no longer remembers what he did.”

“Do you think that’s real?” Ronald asked.

“Do I think what’s real?”

“Him not remembering anything,” clarified Ronald, “It seems awfully convenient, and we know this old coot can act. How many years did he hide in plain side acting like just some old, crazy man? I don’t think we can trust Undertaker.”

“Reaper 136649,” William corrected, “We’re supposed to refer to him by his number when we talk about him to anyone in charge.”

“Like anyone can remember that,” Ronald mumbled as he crossed his arms like a sullen child.

“You need to try,” William said, “Upper Management does not like him referred to as anything else at this point.” He exhaled slowly as he ran a hand through his well groomed hair. “And I do not think it’s an act. I was there. I saw the shards of the exploding scythe. A few even cut me, but I was farther away and my records were not damaged. The deserter was not so lucky. His records were shredded and he was seriously injured. I thought he was dying…” William’s voice trailed off as he looked away. 

“Like Senior Sutcliff?” Ronald asked.

William nodded. “Those records, the real ones, cannot be recreated,” he said, “So those memories that were destroyed are lost forever.”

“Just like Senior Sutcliff,” Ronald repeated, “Without records, you can’t even be reborn. You’re just...gone.”

There was no answer from William as he simply stared at the door across from him with a steely glaze; his teeth grinding in his tightened jaw.

“Boss, can I confess something?” Ronald asked.

“I’m no longer your direct supervisor,” William replied, “but you can say whatever it is on your  mind.”

It was Ronald’s turn to hesitate as he looked down at the rug and shifted his feet. “I always thought,” he finally began, “that there might have been something between you and Senior Sutcliff. I know you always denied it, but I still...thought there could be a little something.”

“And what made you think that, Knox?” William demanded.

“It was a lot of little things,” Ronald said, “You always denied there was anything, but the few times we worked together you always managed to bring him into the conversation. It was like Senior Sutcliff was always on your mind or something.” He paused as he absentmindedly played with his hair. “Even the way you just sort of disappeared after he died,” he continued, “It was like you died too. You had yourself transferred to a supervisory position in scythe modification, and we both know that was a demotion. You weren’t even in trouble. You just left.”

William sat quietly for a moment simply staring straight ahead. When he spoke, his voice was tense. “You have a very direct way of stating things.”

Ronald shrugged. “Didn’t see any reason not to be direct. Not at this point at least.”

William only nodded slightly in response. He opened his mouth as if to speak but quickly closed it again, as Ronald watched closely.

“I understand if…” Ronald began, but the doors across from them openly suddenly without any noise, and Ronald turned away from William. A reaper stood framed by the doors; an average looking individual with closely cut dark hair and a nondescript black suit. His eyes flickered briefly as he looked at the two before gesturing towards Ronald.

“Knox,” he said, “We are ready for your testimony. Please come with me.”

Ronald gave a nervous smile. “Wish me luck,” he whispered to William as he stood up and walked towards the man. Soon, the doors were shut behind them and William was left alone in the room.

William let out a long slow breath as he stared down at his hands. His shoulders slumped slightly and the muscles trembled slightly from being held so rigid for so long. “We were more,” he said to himself, “but not enough, and that was my fault.”

 

 

* * *

  
  
  


The common room was filled beyond capacity, but more and more reapers kept filing inside. Chairs had been moved out and were currently lining the hall; making it quite difficult to get into the dorm room. It wasn’t that anyone was actually trying to get into the rooms as most everyone was laughing, joking, and even dancing around although there was no music to be hurt. Liquor flowed as free as the conversations as laughter hung on the air.

“We did it!” someone shouted, “We finally did it! We’ve graduated!’

“About time!” came the shouted response, which led to a chorus of laughter.

William hung back from the festivities as he observed everything with a quiet, watchful eye. The beer he was drinking was far from his first, although his stance was still quite solid. He showed no signs of drunkenness as he took a long drag from his cigarette; one of the few vices had carried with him from his human life. “Ridiculous,” he mumbled, as he pushed himself from the wall and headed for the door.

“Darling!” cried a shrill voice, “There you are! I’ve been looking for you!”

William turned slightly only to see Grell approaching. There had been a subtle change in Grell since their final. The anger and the volatile nature was still there, but Grell had a new flair in both movement and voice. The smile he greeted William with was equal parts loving and predatory. “What do you want?” William asked.

“Are you leaving so soon?” questioned Grell, “Don’t you want to stay and have fun?”

“I don’t consider this...noise to be fun,” William said, “I’d prefer to go back to my room and attempt to get some rest. We receive our first placements tomorrow, and I’d rather do so with a clear mind.” He turned to leave, but Grell grabbed his arm.

“Don’t be such a stick in the mud,” Grell cooed, as he batted his eyelashes. William noticed the lashes were thicker and darker than usual. “Stay and celebrate.”

“Celebrate what? In case you’ve forgotten, we haven’t really accomplished anything. This is our punishment.” William pulled his arm away and straightened his jacket.  “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He walked into the hall and carefully began making his way around the misplaced furniture. Luckily, his room wasn’t too far away.

He was just retrieving his key when he heard the clacking of high heels approaching him, and he didn’t have to look up to know that it was Grell. “You should go back to the party,” William said, without looking at Grell, “Have your fun and leave me out of it.” Opening his door, he stepped inside, and moved to shut the door behind him.

Grell caught the door and stepped inside the room before William could stop him. He closed the door as William crossed the room and sat down heavily on one of the two beds. Like most of the dorm rooms, it was a small cubicle just big enough for two beds, one desk, and a narrow closet. The far side of the room had been decorated with posters and other personal effects. William’s side was barren except for a single clock.

“Why are you bothering me?” William asked.

Grell only smiled as he twirled slightly as if dancing. He was unsteady on his feet as he removed his coat and tossed it on the far bed. 

“You’re drunk,” William said.

“So are you, darling.”

“I’m not your darling.”

“Whatever you say,” Grell said with a laugh. He walked over so that he was standing directly in front of William, “Although I notice you didn’t deny being drunk.”

“I obviously didn’t have as much a you,” William said, as he stood.

“But maybe you’ve had enough to lower your inhibitions just a bit,” Grell said, as he grabbed William’s tie in his fist, “Let’s see.” He pulled William forward with a sudden rough motion. Before William had time to react, their lips had made contact and Grell was initiating a sloppy, desperate kiss. William let it continue a moment before shoving Grell back.

“You taste like cigarettes, darling,” Grell said, “You should give them up. They taste nasty.”

“I don’t recall giving you permission to kiss me,” William stated.

Grell laughed as he wrapped his arms around William’s neck. “But you haven’t told me to leave yet.”

William pulled away again. “Because I don’t think it would do any good,” he said, “You’ll just stay and annoy me.” He sighed loudly. “Just do what you want and get it over with.”

“Oh, so that’s how it is,” Grell said. He pushed William down on the bed into a sitting position and sat down straddling William’s lap. “You know what I think? I think you’ve wanted me for a long time. Back when we were sharing a room while observing Thomas, I saw how you looked at me at times.” He loosened William’s tie and undid a few buttons to reveal his neck. “I just wish I had been able to see you for the man you are,” he whispered against the revealed skin before nipping and sucking it gently.

William shivered involuntarily. “I think you’re mistaken,” he said. His voice only held the slightest of trembles as he spoke. “I was disgusted with you as a temporary roommate, especially with your...personal nightly activities.”

Grell laughed against the heated flesh of William’s neck. “I thought you were asleep,” he said, “Of course, if I had known then what I know now, I would have included you in my ‘activities.’” He placed his hand on William’s chest and slid it down slowly until it was resting on front of William’s pants.

“My roommate,” William began.

“Won’t be back for hours,” Grell said, “He’s enjoying the party. Besides, I locked the door.” He began to rub William through his pants.

William shifted. “Enough talk,” he said, “Just get it done and over with.”

“As you wish,” Grell said, as he moved his body so that he was kneeling before William. He smiled as he regarded William with thickly lidded eyes before he began to undo William’s pants.

“Will,” he moaned softly, “Oh...Will.”

 

 

* * *

  
  
  


“Will!” Othello greeted brightly, “Have the hearings already started?”

William blinked several times as his mind returned to present and he turned his head to look at Othello. “Yes,” he said, “Knox is in there now giving his testimony.” He shifted slightly in his seat as he adjusted his glasses.

Othello sat down in the chair next to William and reached into an inner pocket of white lab coat. “Can you believe it’s been fifty years?” he asked, “Personally, I think they should have done this years ago, but Upper Management loves symbolism. Silver Fox deserted for 50 years, so they think he should set in a cell for that long to await his eventual punishment.” He pulled out a silver box. “Licorice?”

“No thank you,” William said, “I’m surprised that you are late. I know you’ve been eager to testify.”

Othello shrugged. “I was in the middle of an experiment,” he said, “and I couldn’t leave. I have a new assistant, but, I tell you, he’s more trouble then he is help. Name’s Wilson. Nervous guy who has a wild conspiracy theory about everything.” Othello shook his head, causing his fluffy hair to dance about. “Never make the mistake of asking him about one of his theories. I did once. I think it took him two weeks to give me all the details.” He bit into his licorice as he stared at the door. “What kind of questions do you think they ask?”

“I don’t know,” William replied, “Hearings that involve executions are quite rare. I’ve only known of one other of this magnitude, and I was not called to testify.”

Othello chewed for a few minutes. “What are you going to say if they ask if you whether or not you think Silver Fox should die?”

“You shouldn’t call him that,” William replied, “and I don’t know. It is their decision. I can only tell them what happened during his capture.”

There was a quiet nod from Othello. “I wanted to study him,” he said, “but with his records in shreds, there’s no reason to anymore. He can’t remember all he did.” He yawned loudly and stretched in his seat. “It’s a shame. We could have gained a lot of information from his experiments.”

William turned to respond, but the doors opened up before he could do so. Ronald stepped out, looking rather pale and tired, but he gave them a quick smile. 

“It’s your turn, Mr. Spears,” he said.

William nodded and quickly stood up. With a steady stride, he walked through the double doors that closed loudly behind him.


	2. The Death of Grell Sutcliff

_Chapter 2: The Death of Grell Sutcliff_

 

There was no foreshadowing of the tragedy that was soon to occur. It wasn’t dark nor stormy and there was no clasps of thunder or lightning. In truth the day was peaceful if not coldly beautiful. The winter sun shone weakly from the vast blue expanse of the sky; causing the layer of snow that had fallen in the night to glisten brilliantly. Silence hung on the crystalline air as all eyes were on the deserter known as Undertaker.

The aforementioned reaper was standing in the center of the snowy field. Despite the cold, he had undid the buttons on his outer cloak, and now flapped behind his slender body like a pair of black wings. He had his arms stretched up towards the sky as his hair whipped about him. The gentleness of smile graced his face as two tears slipped down the scarred surface. It almost looked as if he was prepare to give himself up.

Except for the massive scythe he still held tightly.

The boy, or rather the doll, that had once been the real Ciel Phantomhive sat nearby, but his eyes were blank and unseeing. It had appeared as if the puppet’s strings had finally been cut as he silently stared across the field at his twin. The boy that had taken his brother’s name was standing firm despite a slight tremble that may have been the cold or possibly emotions. It didn’t matter. The demon that stood beside him didn’t tremble, but his eyes were firmly fixed on Undertaker. His arrogance had faded a bit in this snowy field as even Sebastian seemed prepared to proceed with caution.

On the other end stood William and Grell, both of them holding their scythes tightly as they surveyed the scene. Grell’s red coat stood out against the snow like newly fallen blood, which was something he might have appreciated had it been said aloud. For now, he simply stared at Undertaker as held his unusually tight teeth in a grimace.

“Why are we waiting?” he hissed, “He’s right there. I say we attack.”

William let out a slow breath that turned into an icy fog. “You might be right. I wanted to wait for reinforcements, but Knox might be a bit late as he had another assignment to take care of first. “ He adjusted his glasses. “Honestly. This job is quite important. It is far too much for three reapers.”

“Two,” Grell corrected, “It’s best not to count Othello. He’s no help.” As if to confirm his statement, he waved his scythe slightly, and Othello hand shot out from behind a nearby tree. There had been no real talk about him joining the fight as he had no such experience or skill.

“Understood,” William said, “I think the best course of action might be the simplest. We simply charge him. After all, we must capture him before that accursed demon gets a chance to do so.”

Grell looked at him. “I’ve tried a head on attack before,” he said, “with Ronald on the ship.” He bit his lip enough that a tiny drop of blood became visible. “It didn’t work.”

“You almost sound hesitant,” William said.

“Oh, you misunderstand me, darling,” Grell replied, “He’s strong. There’s no denying that, but I’ve been looking forward to this. That cad cut my beautiful face. I want revenge.” He glanced over William with a broad smile. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. In fact, I’m reluctant to show that brutal side of me to you. It’s so unladylike.”

“I’ve seen it before,” William said, “I thought that was your typical self.”

“So cold. So cruel,” Grell cooed, “But that’s what I love about you, darling. Head on attack then?”

William nodded. “I think it’s best to get this matter taken care of quickly,” he said, “There’s already been too much overtime on the account of this deserter.”

“I don’t mind overtime, if I can spend it with you,” Grell offered, “Although I do agree with you.” He readied his scythe. “Let’s go, love.”

Grell leaped forward first and ran across the field as William followed closely behind. The icy air whipped around them as they ran; their speed and agility unmatched by mortal creatures. To the naked eye, it would have looked as if they were truly flying low to the ground as they approached Undertaker.

Othello suddenly shouted. His words were lost in the distance, but the shout itself could be heard. William turned slightly and saw another figure approaching the deserter from the other direction. There was no time to register any real details of the face as he was moving as quickly as Grell or William. The only things William had time to notice was the white coat and the crudely made death scythe much like Undertaker’s own weapon.

“Watch out!” William yelled, but there was no time to react. The stranger and Grell had both closed in on Undertaker when an explosion suddenly rocked the area.

William was tossed backwards and landing hard onto the snowy ground. Shards from the explosion had cut superficially into skin, but the burn was unmistakable. “A scythe?” William asked aloud, as he struggled into a sitting position to access the situation.

A horrible scene was laid before him. Grell had taken the direct force of the blast. The pieces of scythe had torn into his body; ripping skin and causing his records to stream up towards the cold, blue sky. As William watched, the records themselves were being torn and destroyed from the remains of the scythe. Undertaker lay nearby in a similar condition, but William’s attention was fully directed towards Grell.

“No,” William said; his voice only a hoarse whisper as he jumped to his feet and ran to Grell’s side. He dropped to his knees as he examined Grell’s injuries. Blood was splattered on the ground; staining the snow like discarded rose petals. “Grell,” William whispered.

Grell slowly opened his eyes. His two toned irises were quickly fading, and it was clear he was dying as he reached up and touched William’s face.

 

 

* * *

 

 

William paused briefly as he took a drink a water. The hearing had last now for more than an hour as he had carefully recounted the events of that fateful day, and his throat had grown dry. He was currently standing before a podium before the shadowy figures that made up the team of Upper Management that were to act as judge and jury for this case. There was a bright light emanating from behind the higher ups, but it did almost nothing to illuminate their forms. Instead it seemed to shroud them more as their shadows stretched across the room.

William set the glass of water down and cleared his throat. “Knox soon arrived on the scene,” he said, “and he made sure that Reaper 136649 was secure, although it was clear that 136649 was no longer had the capacity to escape. The demon and the boy left the area soon after, and a clean up crew made sure there was no evidence left behind before we returned to this realm.”

The soft, nearly hypnotic sound of typewriter could be heard faintly as William spoke. It was clear someone was transcribing this proceeding, although they could not be seen.

“I have a question,” a new voice spoke up, “During Knox’s testimony, he said that Sutcliff said something peculiar. I believe it was iceberg. Did you hear this statement?”

“Yes,” William answered, “although I hardly see how it is important to the matter at hand.”

“We’re just checking on the reliability of the eyewitness testimonies,” came the quick reply, “So Sutcliff did say that? Do you know what it meant or had his records been destroyed to the point he was speaking nonsense?”

William ground his teeth and exhaled loudly through his nose. “Iceberg was his...nickname for me,” he said, “His records were being destroyed, but his words did make sense.”

The clicking of the typewriter recorded his answer as he could only stare at the shadowy,

faceless figures that stared down at him. “One final question, Spears,” the first voice began, “Do you think Reaper 136649 should be put to death for his crimes?”

William adjusted his glasses. “I am not qualified to answer that question,” he said, “Reaper 136649 did commit crimes. He interfered with human lives by causing death and extended other lives without permission. If you feel these crimes warrant death, then he should be executed. My opinion on the issue does not matter.”

A moment of silence followed as even the typewriter seemed to pause. William didn’t sway or waver as he stood there under the weight of those unseen eyes.

“Very well, Spears,” replied the speaker, “That will be all for today. Is that fellow from forensics in the waiting area?”

“He was earlier,” William answered.

“Send him in as you leave. That will be all we will be needing for you today.”

“Thank you, sir,” William said through clenched teeth. Turning, he walked with both strength and determination as he left the room and walked down the small hallway towards the door. As he threw open the doors, he saw that Othello was standing in front of the grandfather clock and appeared to be examining it.

“They are waiting for you,” William said.

Othello smiled. “About time,” he said, with a nervous laugh as he pointed the clock, “I was getting tired of just waiting around. Not good for the mind you know.” With a light step, he walked through the doors and soon disappeared down the hall.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hospitals in the living world held the curious distinction of being a place of being both life and death - miracles and heartache. It was the place people went to give birth and to be healed, but also a place that many went to die. Nearly as many reapers as doctors roamed the halls in a place where tears of joy mingled with tears of sorrow.

The only hospital in the reaper realm was different. The small, squat building was little more than a glorified infirmary with only one doctor and a few nurses. This was because reapers tended to hear rather quickly from even the most serious of wounds. Most usually only needed a little rest before going about their usual routines.

Those who needed more were often beyond help.

William stood quietly in the well waxed hallway, his face set in stone as he waited, and his clothes covered in blood. He had been the one to carry Grell here while Ronald, with a tiny bit of assistance from Othello, had brought in Undertaker. Even during transport, their records had continued to deteriorate, and neither had regained consciousness.

“Do you think Senior Sutcliff will be okay?” Ronald suddenly asked.

William turned and looked at the younger reaper as if he had forgotten he wasn’t alone in this hallway. Ronald was leaning heavily on the wall, his own clothes covered with blood that was not his own. “I don’t know,” William replied, “I’m not even sure if he’s the one that Dr. Brown is attending to.”

“But he has to be!” Ronald cried, as he shoved himself from the wall, “Undertaker, he’s...he’s just a deserter, and Senior Sutcliff was doing his job.”

William didn’t respond at first, as he turned his attention back to the closed doors that hid the room where the doctor was working. “He was,” William said, “He was just doing his job like any of us.”

As William spoke, Othello walked into the infirmary - carrying a bloodless, severed leg in his hands. He hurried over to William; his sandals squeaking on the floor. “You’ll never guess what I found,” he said.

“Are you seriously carrying a leg around?” Ronald demanded.

Othello ignored him as he held the leg out to William. “This is all they recovered of the attacker,” he said, “but do you see these stitches?” He pointed to a line of stitches that ran about the calf.

“Bizarre Doll?” William asked.

Othello nodded. “That’s what it looks like.”

“So that deserter sent one more Bizarre Doll?” questioned Ronald, “For what reason?”

“I don’t know,” Othello said, “Maybe he meant it to attack us, but it got confused. Besides, I think he must have been in a hurry.” He pointed at the scarring. “These aren’t his usual stitches. He might have been desperate. That makes sense I suppose. What I haven’t figured out is how he made a scythe explode.”

“I’m not sure that’s important,” William said.

The door suddenly swung open, and Dr. Brown stepped into the hall. He wiped the sweat from his forehead as he let out a long sigh. He was a tall, lanky man with wild, white hair and quick eyes, but now his shoulders were slumped as if he had been defeated. Looking up at the three, he stepped forward.

“The deserter is now stable,” he said, “His records were badly damaged, and I doubt he has many memories, but he will survive.”

“What about Sutcliff?” William immediately asked.

Dr. Brown’s eyes drifted towards the floor. “I’m sorry,” he said, “He was...beyond my help. I couldn’t save him.

Ronald gasped, but William only gave a single small nod. “Of course,” he said, “Thank you, doctor.” Without another word, William turned and left the building as he walked silently back to Dispatch.

 

 

* * *

  


William’s eyes flew open; the memories of the aftermath still playing in his mind even now that he was awake. He stared up at the darkened ceiling as he let out a long, slow breath. “I’m sorry, Grell,” he whispered aloud, “I couldn’t save you. I couldn’t even mourn losing you properly.”

A hand slowly slipped across his chest and played with the button on his pajamas. Gasping, he turned and looked to his side.

Grell was lying beside him; his blood staining William’s plain blankets and his white pillow. He looked at William sadly as he continued to bleed out.

“Darling,” he said in a hoarse tone, “What happened to my Iceberg?”

William let out a short scream as he jumped backwards and fell out of bed. His head hit the floor, but he didn’t contemplate the injury as he jumped to his feet, put on his glasses, and turned on the light.

His bed was empty.

There was no blood nor was there a dying (dead) reaper lying upon the empty space. Things were precisely as they should be, but William couldn’t seem to control his breathing. Turning away from the bed, he walked over to the closest window and opened it. The night air was brisk, and William inhaled several deep breaths.

“I’m losing my mind,” he announced to the night.


	3. Conspiracy Theories

_ Chapter 3: Conspiracy Theories _

 

The world outside was still dark and quiet as if it remained asleep, but William was already awake and preparing for yet another day. Already showered and dressed, he made sure his hair was perfectly combed before stepping out of the bathroom. HIs apartment was small - barely bigger than the dorm rooms used by the academy students. While supervisor of Collections, he had lived in a slightly bigger dwelling, but the assigned housing went with the job. Despite the small quarters, the area had a bare quality as if no one actually lived there. Perhaps it was because William didn’t actually live here. It was simply a place to sleep before he returned back to his eternal job. Living implied more.

He stopped at the foot of his bed and took a moment to examine the bookshelf as if he had never seen it before. A few books, one overstuffed file, and a crystal in the shape of an iceberg provided the only items of personal value. William took a second to run his fingers over the cool crystal before allowing his digits to rest briefly on that dusty folder. He opened it and stared into the face of Undertaker. The old reaper’s gaze was unfocused, but that was precisely how he had looked after he had been brought in to face his crimes.

“Honestly,” William mumbled as he shut the folder and left his apartment without any more hesitation or distraction. 

He arrived to Scythe Modification early and hurried past the small booths were scythes could be tested for effectiveness and safety. His job was not to test the scythes but rather he was the final say as to whether proposed modifications were to be approved or denied. In truth, most of those decisions were made by his four subordinates, and he was simply the final signature upon the documentation.

William had gone from being supervisor of the most active department of the realm to be little more than a figurehead entombed in a tiny, windowless office.

The day began like many before it as the workers filed in with light conversation and even occasional laughter as they walked to their respective desks. Their jobs were tedious, but they didn’t have the inherent danger of many of the other positions, so there wasn’t the same stress or tendency to act out. They were respectful as they set about their tasks, and William sat quietly in his office and read over forms.

It was close to lunchtime before anyone spoke to William. He was reading over an already denied request, when he heard a knock upon his open door. Looking up, he saw a young, tall reaper with sandy hair leaning half in and half out the door.

“Yes, Hagerman?” William asked.

“I wanted to ask you a question, Mr. Spears,” Hagerman said, “I’ve gotten a few separate requests from reapers wanting to use some sort of new alloy to modify their scythes.”

“A new alloy? I haven’t heard of a new alloy.”

“Neither have I,” said Hagerman, “and I had just been denying these requests, but this one is a bit different.” He held up a a few sheets of paper. “This chap also requested to use this alloy, but he claims that someone in the science department has just created this stuff. In his notes, he said the other fellow told him it had unique properties that made it a better weapon.” 

William motioned for Hagerman to bring him the papers. “Scythes are to be collection instruments and only used as weapons if it is deemed necessary,” he said, although it seemed as if he was talking more to himself.

“Of course,” Hagerman agreed as he brought William the request. “I wanted to make you aware of the situation, sir. If there really is such an alloy, I suspect  we will see more requests for it.”

“And if there isn’t or this alloy has not been properly tested, then these requests need to be quashed so as not to waste any more time.” William scanned over the papers. “I really don’t know about an alloy, and there’s very little information here. I’ll have to go to the science department and ask.” He pushed away from his desk as he stood.

“If you like, I can go, Mr. Spears.”

“That won’t be necessary,” William said, “I’ll go and get this matter sorted out immediately. If this alloy is not ready for use, I want a memo sent out immediately to all departments that such requests will be immediately rejected.”

“Yes, sir.”

William straightened his suit and gathered the papers in his hand. “I’ll be back soon,” he said, although it was an unnecessary statement. William wouldn’t be missed. Not here.

With a steady stride, he left his small office and hurried to the science department. Like Scythe Modification, it was stuck one on of the lower floors, as if it was a dirty secret, and William couldn’t remember actually being in that department before. He had just known its location.

The Science Department was a bustle of activity and white coats, and William paused as he stepped inside. With his dark suit, he stood out, although little of the individuals here even seemed to notice him as they went about their work. Conversations were steady and hectic as William took his few steps forward to search for a director or supervisor. 

“Mr. William T. Spears!” a voice exclaimed, “What are you doing here?”

William turned towards the sound of the voice and found himself looking at a rather tall, lanky man with wild, blonde hair. He wasn’t what you would describe as handsome with his small, close set eyes and thin nose that was just a bit too long for his face. He almost had a rat-like look, but William took a step towards him.

“Do I know you?” William asked, “You look familiar.” 

“We’ve never met, but  _ of course _ I look familiar!” the man said, as he reached out and grabbed William’s free hand. He shook it almost violently. “Name’s Wilson,” he said, “Here, let me show you something.”

Before William could protest, Wilson practically dragged into a nearby small room. William’s eyes took a minute to adjust to the bright lights, but then he could barely believe what he said. It was obviously an office with a small desk wedged into the back corner, but every available space of the walls had been covered with notes, files, clippings, etc. There articles and even pictures, and William saw his own stoic face staring back at him along with Ronald, Undertaker.

Even Grell.

“What is this?” William asked, as he regained his composure. “Hardly seems like a proper workspace.” 

“But this is my true work - my true calling!” Wilson said. He walked over and slapped his hand against the wall. “Don’t you ever question things? Don’t you get that things aren’t what they seem?”

“Our purpose here is not to question,” William replied, “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have to be going.” He turned to leave, but Wilson grabbed him just before he could step out the door.

“Did you suggest that Undertaker be executed?” Wilson asked.

“I hardly see how that is any of your business,” William shot back, “Now, unhand me.”

“He’s innocent,” Wilson hissed, “He was set up. Don’t you see?” Wilson’s eyes danced madly as his smile seemed to stretch unnaturally. “That wasn’t his work. His dolls were different. Besides, it would make no sense for him to destroy his own records.” He pulled William closer, and his breath was hot against William’s face. “You testified at his hearing, and you didn’t even take the time to question his guilt.”

“Wilson, what are you up to?” Othello asked.

Wilson blinked several times as he looked up. “Oh, hi Othello,” he said meekly, “I was just…” His voice trailed off as he seemed to search for a suitable answer.

“I can see what you were just doing,” Othello said, “Now, let Willy go and get back to work.”

Wilson blinked several times as he dropped his head like a scolded dog. “Yes, sir.” He released William’s arm and stepped back into his office quietly.

Othello led William away as Wilson shut the door. William smoothed out the wrinkles of his sleeve. “I take it that’s the new assistant you mentioned previously,” William said.

“That’s him,” replied Othello with enthusiasm, “Brilliant inventor, but his crazy theories will drive you up the wall. I tell you, it’s guys like that that give the rest of us geniuses a bad name. “ He laughed as he motioned for William to follow him up the stairs and to a decent size office. Othello flopped into an office chair as he looked at William. “Hope Wilson didn’t bother you too much,” he said.

“It is okay,” William said, “Although I was surprised when he announced that Undertaker was innocent.”

“That’s his favorite theory. He’ll go on and on about it, if you let him.” Othello stretched as he sat up in his chair. “Besides, we both know old Silver Fox wasn’t innocent. He was trial for his other crimes and not what happened at the end.”

“I know,” William said stiffly. 

“So, what brings you down here?” Othello asked.

“I wanted to ask you about some sort of new alloy,” William said, as he handed over the papers, “We’ve had a few requests that this alloy be used in scythe modification, but I’ve never heard of it before, nor do I know anything about it. This request states that the alloy was discovered in this department.”

Othello looked over the papers. “I bet it’s that new material Wilson’s been working with.”

“Wilson again?”

“Yeah. Like I said, the guy’s a nut but he’s also a genius. I know he was working on something, and he can’t keep his mouth shut. Probably told other people about it.”

William frowned. “Don’t you keep a better eye on your assistants?”

“Honestly, I just like him to stay out of my hair sometimes,” Othello admitted, “Although he has invented some really great stuff. Here, let me show you something.” Othello stood up, but William shook his head.

“I really should get back to my department,” William said, as also got to his feet.

“It won’t take a minute,” Othello insisted, “It’s just down the hall in my lab.”

William started to protest, but then he nodded. Wordlessly, he followed Othello and they walked into a large, open lab. There were beakers scattered about, and William wondered about the cleanliness of the area. Before he could say anything, Othello crossed the room and pulled back a curtain that had been covering the far wall.

“Ta da!” Othello said.

Stepping forward, William found himself looking through a thick window into a nondescript room with no furniture of features. “What am I looking at?” he asked.

“Sometimes our realm can hamper our experiments,” Othello explained, “For example, if I’m trying to experiment with how a scythe truly can cut through time and space, Upper Management is alerted.”

“Because such experiments can lead to dangerous as well as illegal situations,” William said.

Othello waved as his hand as if shooing off an annoying fly. “Not when you’re careful, and research, all research, is important. Here, anything can be safely tested. This room is completely insulated from our realm. It’s an amazing invention.” Othello leaned closer. “And a great place to hide when certain assistants are bothering you. Wilson may have invented this room, but he never thinks to look in there when searching for me.”

“I still think it could lead to temptations to do things that we aren’t supposed to do,” William said, “but I don’t have time to debate that. I do need to return to my floor.”

Othello waved the papers at William. “Go ahead,” he said, “I’ll check on this alloy and let you know what I find, Willy.”

“Don’t call me that,” William growled as he walked away.

 

 

* * *

  
  
  


Ronald signed the final line of the document and shoved it into a nearby file. “Done!” he announced, as he stood up, “No overtime for me today!” There was an attempt in his tone to be light, but his voice lacked most of its usual energy and bravado. He gathered the file and stood up, but paused when he saw William standing nearby. Ronald’s smile slipped ever so slightly, as William approached him.

“Hello, Knox,” William said awkwardly, “Still trying to avoid overtime I see.”

“It’s never been my style,” Ronald replied, “I just have to turn this in, and this boy is free.” He stepped past William to place the file in the bin to be reviewed by the current supervisor. “So what brings you up here? Thinking about returning.”

“No,” William said, “I was...just curious.” He cleared his throat before adjusting his glasses. “Do you have any plans?”

Ronald turned around slowly; a look of bewilderment crossing over his features. “What?” he finally managed to ask.

William shook his head. “Never mind,” he said, and he turned to walk away, but Ronald hurried over to him.

“Uh, I don’t actually have plans,” Ronald said, “I did, but Sally had to cancel. Why do you ask?”

William’s eyes darted about the room as if he was searching for an appropriate answer. “I was thinking that perhaps we could go somewhere and talk,” he managed, “There are things that I’ve left unsaid for a long time.”

A moment of silence followed as Ronald could only look at his former boss. “Mr. Spears,” he finally begin, “are you trying to say...that you…uh...think...that you and me…”

“Nothing like that,” William interjected, “I wanted to talk to you about Grell.”

“Oh,” Ronald said, as his face flushed, “Sure. Let me grab my jacket.” William stood by awkwardly as the younger reaper grabbed his coat and turned off his desk lamp. As he waited, his eyes drifted towards the tiny office that had once been used by Grell. He had been given his own space before the entire Jack the Ripper affair, as a reward for a job well done, and had kept the office afterwards as other reapers expressed distrust and even fear over working to close to Grell. For many years, it had been dubbed the red office.

Now, it was nothing more than a storage room. Grell’s desk was lost under a pile of boxes, old papers, and office supplies that had been stacked haphazardly. William took a few steps towards the office but stopped as Ronald approached him.

Ronald’s gaze followed in the direction William had been staring. “Yeah,” he said, as if agreeing to something that William hadn’t said aloud, “So...uh, you wanted to go somewhere and talk?”

“Yes,” William said, “There are things that I need to say.” He turned and led the way out of Dispatch; the steps all too familiar to him. A few stragglers were still sitting at their desks, but most of the reapers were already leaving. While overtime was a constant for those working in collections, it was still something that was dreaded and avoided.

There was only one real pub in their realm, as many reapers chose to go to the living world when they wanted to relax, but the unfortunately named ‘Brim Reaper’ was still quite the active location. It was filling up as William and Ronald entered the establishment. Ronald got them both a mug of beer as they made their way to a small table in the back. Ronald set the mugs down on the scarred surface of the table, as William pulled out a cigarette. 

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Ronald said.

“I had given up the habit not long before I became supervisor,” William replied, “although I have unfortunately picked it up again.” He lit the cigarette and took a long drag before releasing the smoke. “It’s a dreadful habit. I’m afraid it is one of my vices.”

Ronald nodded as he studied his beer as intently as a scientist might study a specism. “You said you wanted to talk,” he said, “About what?”

William blew out another hazy puff of smoke as he put his hand on the mug of beer, although he didn’t pick up. “Excuse me, Knox. I know this is rather awkward.”

“Conversations between us were always awkward,” Ronald replied with a nervous laugh, “I guess it’s because we didn’t really have anything in common. The few times we did talk much we usually ended up talking about the weather or…” His voice trailed off as he quickly took a drink.

“Or about Grell,” William added.

“Yeah.”

William took his first drink. “Knox, how many people have you asked about Undertaker since this hearing was announced?” he asked.

Ronald rolled his eyes. “It’s all anyone asks me about these days. Even the birds I go out with. They all ask about the old deserter.”

“And how many ask you about Grell?”

There was a long pause, as Ronald toyed with his glass. “Other than Upper Management? Almost no one,” he admitted, “Like maybe one or two people have asked something, but it’s all about Undertaker.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” William said, “It’s as if Grell has been forgotten.”

Ronald nodded slowly. “I saw you looking at his desk,” he said, “Right after...everything happened, and you left Dispatch, Senior Sutcliff’s desk was kept up like as shrine or something. He had a few things on his desk, and no one would touch it at first. He was the talk of Dispatch. Everyone was saying how strong he had been or how crazy. For a short time, HE was the legend.” He paused as he traced the condensation on his glass with his fingers.

“What happened?” asked William.

“I’m not sure,” Ronald admitted with a shrug, “One day someone needed to put some supplies up, and his office was just convenient. Then another person did the same and another.” He laughed bitterly as he shook his head. “At first, I actually tried to clean off his desk at the end of the day. I’d stack the supplies in the floor, but the next day there would just be more junk in there. I...I just gave up at some point. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I did. I let them bury Senior Sutcliff’s desk in junk as if he hadn’t even mattered.”

William looked at Ronald for several minutes as his cigarette burned untouched between his fingers. “Whenever anyone asked me if I thought Undertaker deserved to be executed for killing Grell, I’ve always replied that he wasn’t even on trial for Grell’s death. He was on trial for all the other crimes he committed. I have said repeatedly that what happened to Grell didn’t matter.” His hands shook slightly as his voice wavered. “But I was wrong. It feels like everyone has forgotten Grell, but I committed the worst crime. I acted as he was never important to begin with.”

Ronald tentatively reached out and put his hand on William’s shoulder. “You didn’t forget him,” he said, “and I never really thought you...believed in your own words.”

William took another long puff from his nearly forgotten cigarette. “You said something to me while we were waiting to testify,” he began, “you said something about how you always thought that Grell and I might be something more.”

“I’m sorry if…” Ronald began.

“We were.”

Ronald hesitated for a moment before a slight smile softened his face. “I’m glad,” he said, “It’s what Senior Sutcliff wanted.”

“No,” William disagreed, “It wasn’t the grand romance that Grell wanted. It wasn’t even what he deserved.” He looked down at his mug for a moment before flicking his ashes into a nearby ashtray. “I’m not a romantic, nor did I desire any sort of relationship. It was more of a series of encounters.” He shook his head. “I cannot believe I’m telling you something so personal.”

“I guess you just wanted to tell someone,” Ronald said with a shrug, “Someone who actually cared for Senior Sutcliff too.” He took a long drink and set the mug down heavily. “He never told me anything about it. He had wild tales, but he never said anything definite about the two of you...you know...hooking up.”

“There wasn’t much to tell,” William replied, “There had been an incident just after graduation when we both had been drinking. I blamed that one on alcohol, but then we were paired together to go after a deserter.” William took another drag off his cigarette and blew a smoke ring up towards the ceiling.

 

 

* * *

  
  
  


The office was cluttered with far too many personal effects. There was no trace of dust or dirt so it would be hard to call it dirty, but there was simply no empty space available. Every flat surface was covered with pictures, knicknacks, and other forms of memorabilia. Even the desk had not been spared. Although there was an in/out tray that seemed to be used for its proper function, the rest of the area was a mess of paperwork, pens, and calendars of years passed.

William stood tall and straight in the room, and did his best not to let his eyes wander about the clutter, although his eyebrow would twitch every now and again. Grell stood beside him; his body relaxed and casual despite the fact his clothes were a bit too tight. He had gone through quite a change since graduation. His clothes had more flair and style, and Grell himself seemed to be less angry yet more dramatic. He smiled casually as he toyed with his hair, which had grown quite a bit. It was already below his shoulders.

Their supervisor was still sitting at his desk and reading a bulletin he had just received, as if he didn’t notice the two reapers standing before him, but then he sighed loudly. He pushed back from his desk and stood, and he toward over them. With his height and bulk, he was an intimidating man in form, but there was a gentleness in his lined and wrinkled face. Shaking his head, he ran his hand through his thinning, gray hair before looking up and making eye contact with them.

“It’s been confirmed,” he said, “Johansen has not only deserted, but he has broken some rather important rules.”

“Is that why you’ve called us here, Mr. Hamilton?” William asked.

Hamilton nodded. “While we are chronically short-staffed, Upper Management has given this case priority. Johansen must be brought in so that he can stand trial for his crimes.” Hamilton grabbed an unlit cigar off of a nearby ashtray and jammed it into his mouth. “You two are to go to the living realm and find him. While you are to blend in, you are to remain there until Johansen has been captured - and he must be brought in alive.”

Hamilton gathered some paperwork that was lying on his desk and handed it to William. “Remember to remain incognito and to stay together. We want you to approach Johansen as a duo to minimize his chances of escape.”

Grell was practically wiggling and dancing from foot to foot at these instructions, but William cleared his throat. “Forgive me, sir,” William began, “but wouldn’t it make more sense for us to separate and cover more ground. If we discover the deserter, we can simply call to our partner to assist in capture.”

“These are not my orders, Spears,” Hamilton replied, “but I do agree with the idea. You two worked quite well together during your final exam, so I expect you to take care of this assignment quickly. Besides, this job might even involve a reward of sorts.”

“Reward?” questioned William.

Hamilton sat down heavily in his seat. “Yes,” he said, “I’m...moving on, so the position of supervisor over Dispatch will soon be open. Upper Management is looking to fill that position with someone from collections, and I’ve been informed that doing well on this mission will weigh heavily on their decision.”

There was a brief period of silence, and there was no question as to whether they would ask Hamilton about his ‘moving on.’ There were things that were simply not discussed and concepts that were not questioned. Finally, William nodded.

“We will do our best to succeed in our assignment,” he said.

“I know you will,” Hamilton said, “You’ve been excused for the rest of the day, and your collections have already been divided among other reapers. Gather what you need for the trip tonight, and you’ll be expected to leave tomorrow morning. Understood?”

“Understood,” William and Grell said in unison.

“Then you’re dismissed. Please leave my door open when you leave. It seems a bit stuffy in here.” He said this in a distracted manner as he picked up some more of his crumbled paperwork and began to read.

William left the office as Grell followed closely behind. It was lunch for many of the works, so Dispatch was almost deserted as they walked back to their respective desks. “Isn’t this exciting?” Grell asked, “Our first truly big assignment, and we get to work together again at last.” He approached William with light, happy steps as he ran his fingers along William’s back. “Are you excited about the possibilities, darling?”

“I’ve told you before, I’m not your darling,” William replied, “And no, I am not excited. This is a serious assignment, and it should be approached as such.”

“But it could be fun,” Grell insisted, as he sat down on a nearby desk and crossed his legs, “I know of a lot of fun things we can do together...alone...in the dark.” He laughed. “You just need to loosen up.”

“I will do no such thing,” William replied, “My focus will purely be on the deserter. I will not be distracted.” 

“You were distracted the night after graduation,” Grell purred.

William’s face turned red, but he did his best to hide it by adjusting his glasses. “I was drunk and my judgement was hampered.”

“As I recall,” Grell said, as he ran his hand up his leg, “I was far drunker than you. Could it be that you took advantage of me in my inebriated state, Mr. Spears?”

William whirled around to face Grell. “I did no such thing,” he said, “Besides, you said you would never speak of the matter.”

“I haven’t told a soul,” Grell replied, “But, I can’t help but wonder that if, after this assignment, they’ll be anything else I will be sworn to secrecy to.” Grell laughed lightly as he jumped down from the desk and left the room. His heels accented the swaying of his hips as he walked.

William watched for a minute before he turned away to gather his last bit of paperwork. “Honestly,” he mumbled to himself. 

 

 

* * *

  
  
  


Ronald seemed lost in thought for a moment. “So that assignment is why you were promoted to supervisor?” he asked.

“Yes,” William replied, “Although I’m sure there were other factors.”

“What about Senior Sutcliff? Didn’t he get any sort of promotion? Did he help with the capture?”

“That’s a long story,” William said, “Perhaps another time.” He stood up and tossed a bit of money on the table to cover his drink, although it was all but untouched. “I probably should head home.”

He turned to leave, but a young reaper ran into the bar. His face was pale, so that his freckles stood out brightly on his thin, pale cheeks as his light brown hair seemed to almost stand on end. “Undertaker’s verdict and sentence has just been announced!” he shouted to the bar, which immediately fell quiet, “He was found guilty, and they’re going to execute him publicly in two days!”

A mumbling approve rippled through the crowd before conversations began anew. “So, I guess that’s the end of it,” Ronald said, as he took a long drink, “He’s going to be put to death for his crimes.”

“Yes,” William agreed, “but not for what happened to Grell. That is one crime that will continue to remain unpunished.”

With those words, William pushed through the crowd and slowly walked towards his tiny apartment. 


	4. Iceberg

_ Chapter 4: Iceberg _

 

The ancient room was small, yet a special effort obviously been made to keep it tidy and presentable. The quilt upon the mattress was worn, but clearly well-washed, and the floor was clean despite the sheer number of feet that had tread upon its surface. The single window was framed by cheerful, handmaid yellow curtains that added just a bit of color to room.

It was clear that William and Grell weren’t paying attention to the decor as their attention was fully focused on the other.Grell was lying on the bed on his back; one leg on William’s shoulder while the other had slipped so that it rested around William’s arm. His face was flushed but shining with a thin sheen of sweat that washed away the makeup so that his freckles dusting his nose and cheeks stood out. His thin yet muscular chest heaved as he moaned and gasped for air; his nipples standing up like two rosebuds against the pale skin. His right hand clawed desperately at the sheets while the left clumsily and desperately stroke himself in rhythm as William shoved deeper inside his current lover. 

William’s face was also flushed and the sweat had caused his hair to hang over his forehead as he moved. He stared down at Grell; drinking in the sight of the redhead before leaning forward for a rough, passionate kiss. Grell returned it eagerly as he released the covers to claw at the back of William’s head before breaking the kiss to moan loudly.

“Ah...this...this is so good,” he panted, “My body...on fire. Oh…darling.” His own stroking began desperate, almost feverish, until William reached between their thrusting bodies.

He locked his eyes on Grell’s own as he moved Grell’s hand aside to rub him. Outside. Inside. Stroking as their bodies moved in perfect rhythm and the ancient dance. Their eyes were as connected as their bodies as their lips hovered only inches apart as if they were even sharing the same breath.

Grell moaned again, and he shut his eyes before throwing his head back. His body jerked and William could feel Grell tightening around him before releasing, and that was all it took to push William over the edge as well. He soon followed; emptying inside of Grell before pulling out. He rolled over and lay on his back as he gasped for air.

Grell sighed in content, as he rolled on his side and placed his hand on William’s chest; just above his pounding heart. “Amazing, darling. It was never like that for me before. How about you?” He leaned forward the place a gentle kiss on William’s chest; an almost absurdly chaste kiss considering they had only just finished in their love making.

William shivered as he sat up and grabbed a towel that he had laid beside the bed. He quickly wiped himself off before handing another towel to Grell. “Clean yourself up,” he said.

“Is that all you can say to me?” Grell asked, “Or are you beyond words because of my performance.” He laughed as he cleaned himself up. “Really, it was a compliment, darling. You’re not my first lover, but you are certainly the best.”

“I’m not your lover,” William said.

“Oh? Then what are you then? What do you call what we just did?”

“A mistake,” William answered quietly.

To his surprise, Grell only laughed and didn’t seem the least bit angry. “The first time you say you were drunk, and this time you claim it’s a mistake. When are you going to be honest with yourself and say you can’t resist me? You tried avoiding me all this time, but the first time we’re truly alone on this recovery mission, you ravish me.”

“I didn’t…” William’s voice trailed off as he turned around and looked at Grell standing there. Fully nude, the light from the window seemed to play off the contours of his body in a loving way. William turned and quickly put on a nearby robe. “It doesn’t matter what I did or didn’t do,” he finally said, “It was a mistake, and one I don’t plan on making again.”

Grell laughed again. “You are so cold,” he said, “Like an iceberg. In fact, that’s what I think I’ll call you. My Iceberg. I think it suits you.” He walked over and trailed his hand over William’s arm and shoulder. “So, my darling Iceberg. Want to try again? Perhaps, I can melt you.”

William moved away. “Never call me that,” he said, “You are to refer to me as Spears... or William if you must.”

“What if I only called you Iceberg during our...intimate moments?” Grell asked.

“Then you won’t have a chance to call me that again.”

Grell smiled as if William’s words were a challenge. “We’ll see, darling. We’ll see.”

As Grell finished speaking, a loud knock was heard upon the door. The two shared a quick look before William closed his robe tighter and hurried across the room to learn the identity of their visitor.

 

 

* * *

  
  
  


William awoke quietly from the dream that was really just a memory, and he lay there for a minute as if hoping to regain some of those old feelings before something caught his eye. He grabbed his glasses from the night stand as he sat up in bed.

A part of him wasn’t surprised to see Grell standing there.

Just as bloody and torn as when William had seen him before, Grell looked at him with sad, longing eyes. “Iceberg,” he whispered, as he laid his hand briefly on the bookshelf before turning to walk slowly into the small bathroom and out of sight. 

William slipped from the bed; the floor cold beneath his feet as he followed Grell’s path into the bathroom. He turned on the light and waited for his eyes to adjust to the light as he looked about the tiny room.

He was alone.

“What did I expect?” he asked aloud as he turned and slowly walked into his bedroom. At the foot of the bed, he paused and glanced at his bookshelf, but his breath caught briefly on the bloody thumbprint that stained the white wood. He rubbed his hand against it, but the stain didn’t budge. It seemed to be sealed in the wood. Had it always been there? He touched it again before reaching up to take the iceberg crystalline figurine. “I remember when you gave me this,” he said, “You said it was fate you had found it and it was proof you would call me Iceberg again. I denied it like I denied everything else, but maybe I knew deep down that you were right. I accepted it after all.” William sat the iceberg down on top of Undertaker’s file. “But I can’t be your Iceberg anymore. You’re gone, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Moving away from the bookshelf, he opened a window, lit a cigarette, and leaned out into the dark. It was clear he wouldn’t be getting any more sleep tonight.

 

 

* * *

  
  


Morning arose with zero fanfare or any indication it was any different than any other morning. William set about his typical routine, but his movements were slower and clumsier. The lack of sleep clung to his limbs; making them heavy and cumbersome. He sighed as he furtively attempted to hurry. Finally he made it to work on time, but only just barely, and he entered Scythe Modifications the same time as Hagerman.

“Good morning, sir,” Hagerman said.

“Good morning,” William replied in a distracted tone as he unsuccessfully tried to ward off a yawn.

“Are you okay, Mr. Spears? You look...tired.” Hagerman chose the word carefully as if he really wanted to say something else but was trying to be polite.

“I am fine,” William answered, as he yawned again, “I need to get caught up on paperwork today, so I don’t want to be disturbed unless it’s an emergency. Will you pass on that information to your coworkers?”

Hagerman’s smile slipped and his eyes drifted quickly towards William’s nearly empty desk and back. “Yes, sir,” he said, “I don’t look for it to be very busy today anyway.”

“It’s rarely busy,” William mumbled as he dragged himself into his office. He left the door open as he sat down heavily at his desk and picked up a nearby document. Although it might as well been written in a language foreign to William, his eyes slowly dissected each line multiple times as he tried to make sense of it all.

The day went by slowly, yet William got very little done. He found himself staring at the same page, but his mind kept slipping back to past events. It was near lunch when he heard someone knock upon his door.

“I do not wish to be disturbed,” William began, as he looked up, but he was surprised to see that his visitor wasn’t one of his subordinates. Instead, Othello was hanging half in and half out of his doorway. “I wasn’t expecting you,” William said, “Why are you here?”

“That’s a fine welcome, Willy,” Othello said with a laugh, “I just wanted to let you know that the new alloy that Wilson’s been bragging about doesn’t work like he claimed it would. No one should use it.”

William set aside his pen. “Oh? It’s not beneficial?”

Othello shook his head. “Actually, it’s dangerous.” He held out his white, lab coat which featured a rather sizeable, jagged rip from the middle to tail. “It’s really unpredictable,” he added, “In fact, I’m going to tell Wilson to stop his experiments with it, if I can find him.”

“He’s hard to keep up with?”

“Only when there’s actual work to be done,” Othello answered, “I just wanted to let you know that in person though since you’ve said you’ve gotten requests.” 

“Thank you,” William said, “I’ll make sure to pass on this information.”

Othello nodded. “Well, I guess I’ll get back. I need to find Wilson, and get a new coat if I can’t sew this one. It was my favorite after all.” Talking to himself as much as anyone else, he walked away as William made his way to his door.

“Hagerman?” William began.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ve gotten the official word from the Science Department,” William said, “there is no safe, new alloy. Please send out a notice and deny any requests for modifications using this alloy.”

“Of course,” Hagerman said, “We’ll get to that right away.”

With that done, William shut his door and walked back to his desk as he looked over the same papers he had been examining all day, but at least something had been accomplished. His mind was still very far away as he allowed his thoughts to drift back to that first big assignment with Grell and him.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


William made sure his robe was closed tightly as he opened the door, and Grell stepped to the side so that he would be out of sight of their visitor. “Yes?” William asked as he peered into the poorly lit hallway.

A small, nervous man peered inside. He rubbed his hands together before he raised his eyes to look at William. The eyes were shockingly blue and oddly beautiful on such a plain man that had aged far before him time with this thinning brown hair and angular face. Those blue eyes looked at William almost pleadingly. “Excuse me, sir,” he began in a soft tone, “but you asked for any information about strange happenings with the Johansen family. Well, I have such information.”

“Oh?” William asked.

The man held out his hand shyly. It did not appear he liked to beg, but his lean frame and shy demeanor spoke of his desperation. William placed a coin in that shaking hand. “Thank you,” the man said, “There is talk that old Lady Johansen has taken in a stranger that she thinks is her long dead grandson. No one knows what this stranger is up to.”

“Thank you,” William said, “I will pay you more if your information proves important.” He shut the door before turning around. Grell was already dressed, and William pulled off his robe to put on his clothes as well.

“You’re paying the locals for information?” Grell asked.

‘I thought it might be the most efficient way to track him down,” William replied, “I want to get this mission completed. Don’t you?”

“I’m not sure,” Grell said, as he slipped closer to William and toyed with the buttons on his shirt, “I do like spending all this time with you...alone. We could just take our time and have a bit more fun.”

William moved away quickly. “I know where to find this Lady Johansen,” he said, “Let’s go.”

They stepped into the hallway and shut the door. There was no one around, so they slowly faded from human view as they walked. Only those closest to death would be able to see them now, and their voices would only sound like the most distant of whispers. They moved with stealth and grace as they moved outside and leaped to the roofs to traverse the city.

“It’s strange that this deserter should go back to his family,” Grell said, “I thought those who knew us in life wouldn’t recognize us now.”

“Lady Johansen is blind,” William replied, “and quite elderly. Perhaps that’s how he was able to convince her of his identity. Of course, everyone else thinks he’s a fraud.”

“I don’t think I’d even go to my family if they did recognize me,” Grell continued, “They didn’t appreciate me after all. Didn’t even recognize me for the fabulous bit of color in their dull, drab lives. What about you, Ice...darling? Would you go to your family?”

“There would be no point,” William replied.

“Oh? Did you have trouble with your family?”

“I’d rather not talk of personal matters now,” William said, as they halted on a roof and he pointed to a rather elegant yet old manor nearby. “That is the place,” he said.

“I was wondering,” Grell mused, “while all of this is pure nonsense, would you change anything about the past if you could?”

“Why even ask such a thing? As you said, it is nonsense. The past cannot be changed.”

“I suppose that is true,” Grell said, “but if I could change one thing, I wish I could have seen the real you sooner. Imagine all the fun we might have had during our final if I hadn’t been so blind. I was desiring a real man, and you were right by my side the entire time!”

William adjusted his glasses as he kept his attention on the nearby manor. “Honestly,” he mumbled. As he spoke, two figures stepped in front of a window. “There they are,” he said, “That is Lady Johansen and the deserter.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Grell questioned, as he prepared to leap.

“Wait,” William said.

“Wait for what?” Grell asked, “There’s the deserter. If we have any questions, he’s the one we should ask. Don’t you agree?”

 

 

* * *

  
  
  


William jerked from the light sleep as he immediately looked up at the clock. It was almost quitting time, but he knew that no one would notice if he slipped out just a bit early. Dropping the unread papers on his desk, he quickly stood and straightened his jacket.

“I should have done this before,” he said to himself as he all but ran out of the office.


	5. Doubt

_ Chapter 5: Doubt _

 

The detention center stood at the very edges of their realm; far beyond their artificial sun, day, and night. It rose up in the darkness like a mass of shadows in the farthest reaches of darkest imagination; a ghost or a forgotten or forbidden memory. William stood outside the gate and stared at the building for several minutes. He had only been here once before - back when Grell had been briefly incarcerated after the Jack the Ripper incident, and the building had seemed just as foreboding then. William turned around to see the rest of his world running along as usual as no one even seemed to look this direction. At this moment, he felt very alone.

“I’ve been alone for a long time,” he mumbled to himself as he strode with a false confidence towards the gate. He walked over to the guard’s shack where a tall, someone lanky reaper stepped out to greet him. Despite his height, this reaper looked like little more than a boy with his large eyes, sandy hair, and generous splashing of freckles.

“Hello sir,” he greeted, “Can I help you?”

“My name is William T. Spears,” he said, “Supervisor of Dis...Supervisor of Scythe Modification. I’d like to speak to Reaper 136649. He is incarcerated in this facility.”

The guard nodded. “You’ll have to fill out some paperwork,” he said, “and your visitation has to be approved. It can take a few weeks…”

“There’s not time for all that,” William interrupted, “He is scheduled to be executed tomorrow. I’d like to know if I can speak to him or not.”

“Oh...okay,” the guard said, “Let me see. Wait here a moment.” He stepped back into the shack and picked up a black telephone. Although William couldn’t hear the conversation, he could see the guard making all sorts of gestures. There was no way of knowing whether this was good or bad, but the guard finally stepped back out after a few minutes.

“This is unusual,” he said, “so you’re going to have to ask the warden directly. Just go inside the door and wait there. Someone will be along to direct you shortly.”

“Thank you,” William said.

The guard reached inside the shack and hit a hidden button. There was an electronic sound as the door unlocked, and the guard gestured for William to step inside.

William did as he was directed. The heavy door opened easily, but it shut tightly behind him once he stepped inside. It looked heavily, and William found himself in a small corridor before a woman in a blue and white prison uniform stepped out from a nearby room. She was a small, attractive woman with curly brown hair and a fair complexion. Her expression was serious, but she looked like the sort that would smile and laugh easily in the right situation.

“Mr. Spears?”

“Yes.”

“Please come with me,” she said, “The warden would like to speak to you.” She immediately turned and started walking briskly down the hall. William didn’t hesitate to follow, although he had never spoken to the warden before. The long hall was dreary as there was no outside lights. The bulbs that hung from the ceiling actually seemed to add to the gloom rather than combat it, but William didn’t comment as he followed his guide, who led him to an office door. She knocked and soon a deep voice inside said, “Enter.” That single word seemed to hold such power, as the guard opened the door.

“I’ve brought Mr. Spears, sir,” she said.

The warden was a massive man who seemed to dwarf his standard size text. He smiled slightly; the white of his teeth standing out boldly against his dark skin. “Yes,” he said, “I need to speak to him. Show him inside.”

The guard stepped to the side and gestured for William to enter the room. He did so, and the guard closed the door. Distantly, William heard the soft click of a lock as he stood there and looked at the warden.

“Take a seat,” the warden said, as he pointed to a pair of chairs across from his desk, “I wanted to speak to you.”

“About my request?” William asked, as he sat down.

The warden nodded. “Yes. It is a bit unusual.” His smile widened, but there was a nervousness about his eyes. “Forgive my manners. I haven’t introduced myself. I am Jonathan Peele. I don’t believe we’ve met before.”

“We haven’t,” William said, “although I see you know my name.”

“The guards told me,” Peele replied, “They say you would like to speak to the deserter.”

“I would.”

Peele leaned back in his seat, which creaked loudly. “Might I ask why? There is a process to speak to the prisoners, but it takes time.”

“Time which this prisoner does not have.”

“Which makes this all the more peculiar,” Peele said, “There have been attempts by the curious to speak to the prisoner, but you don’t strike me as merely the nosey type. So, what is your story? Why do you want to speak to him?”

William ground his teeth as he gathered his words. “I’ll be honest with you,” he said, “I spoke at Undertaker’s hearing, so my words may have been a part of his conviction. I want to speak to him...for closure. I suspect that sounds foolish, but I know I will not have a chance to ask him any questions later, and I fear that will be unsettling.”

Peele picked up a pen and toyed with it in his large fingers. “Fair enough,” he said, “If I do decide to grant you this visitation, you have to understand that the prisoner...he’s not really himself anymore. He’s spoken very little since he’s been here, and nothing he has said has made sense. I’m not sure if it will provide you any comfort.”

“I understand that, sir,” William began, “but I still want to talk to him. Even if I learn nothing, at least I know I had a chance to speak to my mind.” He exhaled loudly as he held out his hands. “Please allow me to have this chance.”

Peele looked at him steadily for several minutes. “Okay,” he finally said, “You may have a short visit. We have some private rooms for such things. Of course, I don’t need to tell you that you are only to talk. You will be under surveillance after all. If you make any attempt to help the prisoner to escape, you will be joining him here.

“I understand. I would never do that.”

“I didn’t think that you would, but I still have to give the warning.” Peele hit a button hidden by the lip of his desk, and the door behind William unlocked. After a few minutes, there was a knock on the door.

“Enter,” Peele said.

The same guard as before opened the door. “Yes, sir?” she asked.

“Take Mr. Spears to visitation room 3,” Peele instructed, “I’ll contact the guards overseeing the prisoner and let them know to bring the prisoner to the room as well.”

“Of course, Mr. Peele,” the guard said, as William stood.

“I hope you find the closure you’re searching for,” Peele said to William.

“Thank you,” William replied, before turning towards the guard.

Just as before, the guard turned and walked briskly away. William had to hurry to keep up with her steps as they made their way through twisting, dark hallways. Finally, they came to a room dominated by large unbreakable glass windows so the occupants inside would be clearly seen. She unlocked the door and motioned for William to step inside.

The interior of the room was plain and grey. The only furniture was a scuffed, wooden table and two ancient chairs. William stepped inside and slowly approached the table.

“Take a seat,” the guard instructed, “It will probably take them quite a while to bring the prisoner. I hope you don’t mind waiting.”

“I don’t have an issue with waiting,” William said, as he took the seat that faced the door.

The guard nodded and closed the door. She locked it before leaving, and William watched her walk away past the large windows as he laid his hands on the desk.

“It was Grell that hated waiting,” he whispered.

 

 

* * *

  
  
  


“We wait,” William insisted, “Our assignment was to capture this deserter, not talk to him, and we are to do so without drawing any unnecessary attention to ourselves.”

Grell crossed his arms. “I hate waiting,” he mumbled, but then his frown suddenly blossomed into a smile. William was amazed at how fast the redhead’s mood could change. “I hate waiting,” Grell repeated in a somewhat lighter tone, “except when it’s for something, or rather someone, I  _ really _ want.” With those words, he wrapped his hands around William’s arm.

William didn’t move away immediately. “Honestly,” he said, “Do you ever focus on the task at hand?”

“It depends on the task...and on the hand.” Grell laughed at his own innuendo as he leaned his head against William’s shoulder.

William adjusted his glasses as he kept his focus on the manor. Johansen had moved out of immediate view, but William remained alert as his eyes scanned the other windows and doors. After several minutes, he reached into his jacket and removed a pack of cigarettes. Grell frowned as William shook out a cigarette and placed it in his lips.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that, darling,” Grell said, “It stains your teeth, and a smoker’s breath is horrible. I rather not feel like I’m kissing an ashtray.”

“I don’t recall asking for your opinion on the matter,” William retorted.

“But smoking seems so weak,” Grell insisted, “and you’re such a strong man.”

“It’s a bad habit,” William said, “Don’t you have any?”

“Dozens,” Grell answered, “But I’m fiery and impulsive, so bad habits suit me, darling. Not you.” He sighed. “Did you smoke in your former life?”

“Yes.”

“Then maybe it is time to give those up,” Grell continued.

William didn’t respond verbally, but he found that the next drag didn’t seem to taste the same or satisfy the way it had before. As the sun slowly began to sink below the horizon, he snuffed out the cigarette and tossed it to the street below. 

Grell snuggled closer to William as a door that lead to the manor’s garden opened and their target stepped out into the fading light.

“Now it’s time,” William said.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The sound of the large, metal door being unlocked snapped William back into reality, and he found himself almost instinctively making the motion of flicking a cigarette away as the door opened. He hid the action by pretending to pick lint of his jacket as a new pair of guards brought Undertaker into the room. He was barely recognizable. His long hair had been cut short, and his scarred face was fully visible, and he looked a bit too thin in the drab, off-white clothing. The only thing that seemed the same was the happy, joyful smile plastered on his face. William could almost think that this was the same man, until he looked into the eyes. Those two toned eyes were the the same green gold as any other reaper, but the irises were vacant and staring far into the distance. He was giggling madly as the two guards helped him into his seat.

“I’m not sure what you’re expecting out of this,” one of the guards, a heavy-set balding man with a flushed face, said, “but here he is. I don’t think there’s any danger to him, but we’ll be right outside the door if you need us. Just give us a shout if you need help or when you’re ready to end this foolishness.”

“Thank you,” William said, as he inwardly winced at the guard’s words. Perhaps this all was just foolishness. 

The guards left the room and William was now alone with the reaper formerly known as Undertaker. He took a deep breath as he tried to consider his questions. “Do you know me?” William finally asked.

There was no indication that Undertaker had even heard the question as he swayed slightly in his seat and smiled at something seemingly behind William’s head. He giggled; bringing his hand to his mouth. William couldn’t help but notice that his nails had been cut even shorter than his hair.

“Do you know who you are?” William questioned, “Or why you are here?”

Again there was no answer, and William leaned forward as he attempted to make eye contact with the older reaper. “Why did you do it?” he finally demanded, “Why did you kill Grell? Was that on purpose?”

Silence was his only response, and William found himself sighing loudly. “Everyone was right,” he mumbled, “This was a waste of time.” He stood up quickly with the intention of walking to the door and demanding to leave immediately.

“I...didn’t...kill...the...little...red...rose,” Undertaker said in a very slow, deliberate tone.

William gaped and leaned closer. “What did you say?”

“I...didn’t kill...the...red rose,” he repeated in a slightly stronger tone, “Had...no rea...reason.”

“Red rose?” William repeated questioningly, “Do you mean Grell? Are you saying you didn’t kill Grell?”

Undertaker looked at him and, for the briefest of moments, his eyes became clear, hard, and powerful. For a fraction of a second, he was the legendary reaper that had nearly destroyed Dispatch and had deserted for so long. He shook his head, but all too soon his eyes became distant once more as he stared, unfocused, at a distant corner.

“You didn’t kill him?” William asked again, “Then who did? Do you know? Who killed Grell?”

Undertaker giggled again as he slowly rocked back and forth. It was clear that he was unable to answer any more questions, although William wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

“Please tell me,” he said, “Someone has gone unpunished for the crime, and they should face justice. If you know who killed Grell, just tell me.”

The door opened and the two guards stepped inside a bit too quickly. “I’m afraid we’ll have to cut this short,” the heavyset one said, “There are things that need to be done in preparation for tomorrow.”

William adjusted his glasses. “I would like just a few more minutes,” he said, “I think he might have the answers I have been seeking.”

“Sorry, but we can’t allow that,” stated the guard, as he helped Undertaker to his feet. They led him from the room; leaving William all alone with far more questions than answers.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The trip to the Science Division was uneventful, and no one who saw William would have been able to tell that anything was wrong unless they happened to notice the tightness of his jaw or the brisk pace of his walk. His face held it’s typical, stoic expression, but his eyes held a desperate light as he hurried onto the floor for the second time. It was the same as the first with scientists hurrying about in their white coats; none really paying attention to William initially. He said nothing as he made his way to Wilson’s small office.

“Wilson,” he said, as he knocked upon the door, “I need to talk to you.”

The door hadn’t been properly latched, and it opened slightly at William’s knock. Cautiously, he pushed it open a bit more and peered into the tiny, dark room. The light from the hallway slipped inside and fell upon the articles, pictures, and papers tacked to the walls, but there was no sign of Wilson himself. William paused as he looked at a picture of Grell. It had been taken just after graduation, and he had looked so happy in that picture.

And so unaware of his own fate.

William stepped back and closed the door, although he wasn’t sure what his next step should be. It seemed foolish to even go to Wilson, but he needed to talk to someone - someone with doubts.

“Are you looking for Wilson?” a soft voice inquired.

William turned and found himself looking down in the round face of a young woman with a dark, pixie haircut and a shy smile. “Yes,” he replied, “Do you know where he is?”

“No one knows where he is,” she answered, “Haven’t you heard? He’s been declared a deserter!”

“A deserter?” William repeated, “When did this happen?”

“No one had seen him since yesterday,” she answered, “When someone went to check on him, there was no sign of him at his apartment. Since he always acted so obsessed with that deserter, someone decided to use the tracker system to see if he was still in our realm.”

“And he wasn’t?”

She shook her head. “Not only that, but he had stolen the shard.”

“The shard?”

“It’s the piece of scythe that was recovered from that incident where the deserter was captured,” she explained, “We kept it here to study it, but no one had been really guarding it or anything. I guess we should have!” She laughed lightly before continuing. “No one knows for sure when he stole it, but he’s been experimenting with it for a while and even trying to recreate the exploding scythe.”

“The alloy,” William said.

“Precisely.”

“This is all...too much,” William mumbled.

“Maybe we should have guessed,” she continued, “He was obsessed after all. I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t try something to stop the execution or something. Wilson always was a weird one.” She pushed up her glasses as she looked up at William. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Is Othello in?” William asked, “I’d like to talk to him.”

“He’s in a meeting of some sort,” she answered, “and he’s not expected to return today. He’ll be here tomorrow, but only half a day since everyone’s getting off early for the execution. Do you want me to leave him a note?”

“No,” William said, “I’ll...I’ll just try to see him later.” He turned quickly and left. There was little else he could do but go home.


	6. Execution

_ Chapter 6: Execution _

 

The day awoke gray and overcast, as if their world knew and understood what was scheduled to happen. Despite the weather and the impending event, the mood of most of the reapers were light and lively. Except for those with pre-scheduled assignments, everyone else had a rare half day of work. William doubted that anything was actually going to be accomplished as he listened to the conversations and laughter that slipped in through his open door.

He frowned as he saw another request lying in his inbox concerning the new alloy. Grabbing a red pen, he wrote in large, slanted letters.

 

> _ All requests involving any sort of new alloy are to be _
> 
> _ immediately rejected! _

 

After writing the message, he stopped and looked at his own words. Red. Grell’s color. He hadn’t even intended to grab a pen as he usually wrote in the recommended blue or black ink. Silently, he released the pen and watched it roll across his desk before it rolled off the edge.

Hagerman popped his head in through William’s open door. “We’re getting ready to leave, Mr. Spears,” he said, “Are you going?”

“No,” William replied, “I don’t see any reason for my attendance. I will take this opportunity to get caught up on work.” He gestured to his desk, although there were only a few reports that had yet to be read.

“Okay, sir,” Hagerman said, “Don’t work too hard.” He afforded William a nervous smile before he stepped away. William could hear him laughing and talking with his coworkers as they noisily left the floor. They acted as if they were going to party rather than an execution.

“Honestly,” William said to himself as he started to pour through the documents that didn’t require nearly as much attention as he was giving.

Silence surrounded him. Enveloped him; nearly choking him. He ignored it as best as he could as he finished his work. All four requests were to be denied. Sighing, he set the last report aside before standing and walking onto the main floor of Scythe Modification.

It was quiet. Empty. In that moment, William felt completely alone, but there was nothing here that could change that feeling. After a moment of reflection, he walked the familiar path that led up to Dispatch. It was empty as his own floor, and it appeared that everyone had taken advantage of the shorter work day. William wondered how many had gone to the execution as he walked into the small room that had once been Grell’s office.

Almost without thinking, he set about cleaning off the top of Grell’s desk. He stacked the boxes and supplies neatly on the floor of the office, but he still left a space to walk around the desk - as if he was leaving room for Grell to return. It took several minutes, but finally the top of the desk was revealed. On the worn, scratched surface, William saw that Grell had carved something which he had apparently later painted over in nail polish. 

G.S. Loves W.T.S. 4-Ever.

He stared at those letters for a moment, and almost reached out to run his hand over them, but stopped just short of actually touching. “This is foolishness,” he said aloud as he turned and walked away.

  
  


* * *

  
  


With most of their realm attending the execution, The Brim Reaper was almost vacant when Ronald pushed open the door and stomped inside. Even without the multitude of smokers, the interior seemed smokey somehow as he peered about and looked for the best seat. His eyes widened when he noticed William sitting alone at the table they had shared before. Ronald got himself a beer and walked back to the table.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked.

William glanced up. “No,” he said, “I don’t mind.”

Ronald sat down and awkwardly smiled. “Here we are again,” he said.

“Yes.”

“No less awkward,” Ronald admitted, before taking a drink, “but I’d rather be here then...you know.”

“Yes,” William said, “and I understand.” He pulled out a cigarette, but he didn’t bother lighting it. He just stared down at it as if seeing such a thing for the first time. “Although I usually like peace,” he said, “and I am not accustomed to it being this quiet.”

“Me either,” agreed Ronald, “It seems almost... _ dead. _ It’s strange.” He took another drink and set his mug down heavily. “How can they treat this like some sort of celebration or party?” he demanded, “Laughing and joking. I know we are death, and we’re surrounded by it all the time, but they still seem to eager to watch someone be killed!” His almost spit his words as his emotions took hold. “And they forgot Senior Sutcliff. You were right about that. They forgot all about him. They don’t care about justice. They just want to see the old coot’s head roll.” He took another drink and almost downed the rest of the glass in one gulp.

William watched the outburst with little outward emotion. “It doesn’t seem right,” he finally said, “Undertaker is the topic of conversation now, but he’ll be forgotten in a few years, just like Grell.” He suddenly crushed his unlit cigarette and threw it away.

“I don’t want to hear about Undertaker, and I don’t want to forget about Senior Sutcliff.” Ronald looked at William with pleading eyes; like a boy begging to stay up just a little past his bedtime just this once. “Could...could you tell me more about that big assignment you two had? The one where you had to search for the deserter. What was his name?”

“Johansen.”

“Yeah. You and Grell had to go after him in the living realm. What happened? How did you find him and capture him?”

William toyed with his glass. “I’m not sure this is a very interesting story,” he said.

“It’s a lot better than talking about Undertaker,” Ronald insisted, “Besides, I’d like to hear it.”

“Well, we received information that Johansen had gotten in contact with an elderly relative; his grandmother to be precise. Despite the fact we look and sound different to those who know us in life, he was able to convince her of his identity. Grell and I went there to confront him. Of course, Grell wanted to immediately confront the deserter, but I convinced him to wait. We watched that manor for most of the day, but, that evening, Johansen stepped out into the garden…”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Grell snuggled closer to William as a door that lead to the manor’s garden opened and their target stepped out into the fading light.

“Now it’s time,” William said.

“Just when I was getting comfortable,” Grell said, “but I’ve been itching for some action. I  _ hate _ being on my best behavior for such long periods of time. It hurts my reputation.” Grell laughed loudly as he leapt from the roof, and William followed closely behind.

Johansen looked up just as they landed in the garden; Grell behind him and William in front of him. The young reaper looked back and forth between the two as he grit his teeth together. Up close, he looked like little more than a boy with sandy hair and slightly ruddy cheeks, but there was a madness in his eyes and a tremble in his limbs. He jostled back and forth like a caged animal in the otherwise peaceful garden. 

“Matthew Johansen,” William began, “you are a deserter, and you have also been charged with the crimes of using your scythe in an authorized manner and attempting to alter the natural course of things. You are to be brought in so that you might stand trial for these crimes.”

Tears formed in Johansen’s eyes. “This isn’t fair,” he said, “None of this is. You two know that. Right? You should know it. I don’t want to be punished any longer. Why can’t I just make things right?” 

William adjusted his glasses as he readied his scythe. Behind Johansen, Grell had also his scythe, which he had only recently modified to resemble a two-headed ax. It was a brutally efficient scythe and suited the brutally efficient reaper. “We are not afforded the power to, as you say, make things right,” William replied, “We are only to face our punishment. Now, come with us.” He held out his hand.

Johansen roared as he threw out his hand to summon his scythe. There was a ripple of electricity as the scythe, one like the traditional style, appeared and scorched his hand, but the deserter barely even seemed to notice. He did his best to control the scythe, as he charged at William.

William stood his ground as he readied himself for he counter-attack, but there was no reason. The moment Johansen began to charge, Grell had rushed forward and jabbed him with the stock end of his ax. It was a hard hit to the gut, and it knocked the wind out of Johansen. He fell to the ground in obvious pain.

“Why did you do that?” William asked.

“I was trying to restrain myself,” Grell said, “I’d rather have just killed him, but we are supposed to simply capture him after all.”

“I mean why did you jump in. I was in no danger.”

Grell shrugged. “It was dreadfully boring just watching,” he said, “So let’s take him in and finish our assignment unless…” He let his voice trail off as he slipped up to William and placed his hand on William’s chest.  “...unless you’d like to spend one more night here. I believe we still have that little room rented.”

William stepped aside. “We are to hurry back,” he said, “When you write your report, I would appreciate if you note that I didn’t need your assistance.”

“Darling, if this is about that supervisory position, don’t worry!” Grell exclaimed, “Those stuffy office jobs aren’t for me.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Now, let’s return this trash back to where he belongs.”

William said nothing as he created a portal back to their realm.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Ronald smiled. “So I guess Senior Sutcliff really did give you most of the credit since you got the promotion,” he said, “not that he would have wanted it.”

“I suppose,” William said, “I never knew what he wrote precisely, although it was shortly after that I became supervisor.”

“There’s just one thing I want to know: what had this Johansen done? You said it was something about he used or he scythe or something.”

William took a long drink before answering. “He had attempted to use his scythe to cut the fabric of time in order to go back and change the past.”

“What? I didn’t know that was even possible.”

“Nor did I. It’s not precisely something they tell you about in the academy Apparently it takes a certain amount of pure willpower and the ability to focus on one precise period of time. It’s strictly forbidden of course. Johansen had attempted to go back in time in order to stop himself from taking his own life. He had failed, and it had damaged his scythe, which was why he was hiding in the living world.”

Ronald shook his head. “That doesn’t even make sense. If he had managed to go back and stop himself from killing himself, then he wouldn’t have become a reaper. If he hadn’t become a reaper, then he couldn’t have gone back in time. It’s one of those...uh...uh...I can’t think of the word.”

“Paradox?” William offered.

“Yeah,” Ronald said, “It doesn’t seem possible.”

“I don’t even know if true time travel is possible, but I suspect that why even attempting such a thing is forbidden. I’m not sure if anyone knows the consequences.”

Ronald looked down at his empty glass as if searching for answers at the bottom. “Have you ever thought about it?” he asked, “Going back and changing the past.”

“Grell asked me the same question once,” William replied, “At the time, I told him no, and I suppose the answer is still the same. There are things I wish had never happened, but I know I can’t go back and change things. I don’t know how.”

“That wasn’t precisely what I was asking,” Ronald said, but he didn’t press the situation further. “What happened to Johansen.” 

“We brought him back to face his crimes. There was a short hearing. I heard that he fully confessed.” There was a long pause as William stood up. “He was executed,” he added, “There wasn’t all this fanfare, although there were those in attendance. I remember hearing others talking about how his records were displayed after his death. For a few days, it was a heavily discussed topic.”

Ronald looked up at William. “And then he was forgotten?”

“And then he was forgotten,” William agreed, “I had actually forgotten his name until recently.” He sighed loudly as he gathered his coat. “I’m heading home,” he said, “I don’t want to be here after that...debacle is over. I’m sure many of the spectators will come here afterwards for a drink and to discuss what they saw.”

Ronald stood up. “Good point,” he said, “I think I’ll head home early for a change. Maybe I’ll read a book or something.”

William had no plans to read or do anything productive, but he didn’t say anything as they left just before the crowds pushed their way inside.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The night was far from quiet as William could hear the sounds drifting through his open window as he lay on the bed. He could have gotten up to close the window, but it had felt stuffy and hot in his apartment. He had opened the window in hopes it would cool the room enough he could sleep.

But he only lay there silently staring at his bland, off-white ceiling.

At least the entire matter had been done, so it wouldn’t be long before it was no longer a point of discussion. They could all go back to their existence of punishment, routines, and monotony. They could all forget once again. Perhaps even if he would truly be able to forget.

He closed his eyes and tried to will himself to sleep, but a knock suddenly sounded at his door. Frowning, he sat up in bed and looked at the door for a few moments; wondering if it had simply been his imagination or the last vestige of his sanity leaving, when the knock sounded again.

He rarely had visitors, so William got up from bed and walked over to the door. “Who is it?” he asked through the closed door.

“It’s Othello,” the scientist announced.

William frowned slightly, but he opened the door and stood back. “Come in,” he said.

Othello shook his head. “No,” he said, “I just wanted to stop by and tell you that all of Undertaker’s records, what was left of them,  were revealed at the execution. There was nothing about those final events. He couldn’t have known whether or not he killed Grell, no matter what he might have told you.”

William’s eyes narrowed. “How did you know I had talked to him?”

“Abigail, one of the girls on the floor, told me you had been by looking for me or Wilson,” Othello explained, “She didn’t know your name, but she gave a good description. Plus, a lot of people are talking about your visit. I say a guard let it slip or something. I simply put two and two together.” He smiled, but his eyes peered around William as if trying to look into the room. Perhaps he was trying to see if William was alone.

“Undertaker said he didn’t kill the red rose,” William stated, “but I have no idea if he meant Grell or not.”

“I don’t think he knew,” Othello said, “You should have seen those records. There was almost nothing.” He stretched slightly. “I just wanted to let you know that. Thought it might put your mind at ease.”

William didn’t know how such information was supposed to put him at ease, but he merely nodded. “Thank you,” he said.

“Stop by anytime,” Othello said, cheerfully, as he turned away; his poorly sewn lab coat whipping out behind him as he walked down the hallway.

William closed the door and turned only to see Grell standing beside his bed. Still bloody and still appearing to be in great pain. Othello had been staring over William’s shoulder, and William couldn’t help but wonder if Othello had been able to see Grell.

“I was expecting you,” William said.

Grell nodded before turning and climbing into William’s bed. He looked at William almost expectantly lay as he lay under the covers.

William said nothing as he crossed the room and crawled into the bed beside Grell; beside of his dead, former lover. “Good night, Grell,” he said before closing his eyes and falling into a light sleep.


	7. Breakdown

_ Chapter 7: Breakdown _

 

The office looked clean, barren, and almost sterile without Hamilton and his clutter. William stood for a moment in the center of the room as he looked about, and the faintest look of satisfaction crossed his features. A promotion was a sign that he was doing something right. He was facing his punishment and moving forward. Confidentally, he stepped forward and put a small box on the desk. Reaching inside the box, he pulled out a small nameplate and placed in predominantly on his desk. 

 

Mr. William T. Spears.

Supervisor.

 

It had a ring to it. William finished unpacking the few personal items from the box and moved around to sit in the chair - his chair in his office. He ran his hands over the surface of the desk; the physical sensation proof positive that this was all real. He had done it. He had been promoted and was now one step closer to his redemption.

A knock on the door brought him back to reality. Adjusting his glasses briefly he sat up straight as he looked towards the closed door. “Enter,” he said.

The door opened and Grell stuck his head inside. “Hello, darling,” he said, “Settling in?” Without waiting for an answer, Grell stepped inside and shut the door behind him. There was a small box in his hand as he walked towards the desk.

“Everything is set up,” William replied, “Do you need anything?”

Grell set the box down on the desk. “I bought you a present,” he said, “A congratulations on the promotion gift. I hope you like it.”

William looked at the box for a few minutes as if studying something poisonous or dangerous before reaching out and carefully opening it. Inside, among the tissue paper, was a crystal.

“What’s this?” William asked.

“It’s a crystal,” Grell replied, as he slipped around the desk and put his hand on William’s arm, “in the shape of an iceberg. You could use it as a paperweight, a bookend, or even just for a decoration.” He smiled brightly. “I was just shopping when I saw it, and I knew that it was fate. I knew it was...a sign.”

William sighed as he set the crystal back on his desk. ‘Grell,” he began, “We can’t…”

“Shhh,” Grell interrupted; putting his finger on William’s lips, “It’s just a gift. An iceberg for an iceberg.”

William stood up and turned to face Grell. “I’ve told you not to call me that.”

“Except…” Grell grabbed William’s jacket and pulled him closer. He smiled as he brought his lips to Williams. There was no resistance as Grell kissed him innocently; almost chastely. After the short kiss, Grell took a step back.

William sighed loudly. “Why do you insist on behaving this way?” he asked.

“Because I love you, darling.”

“Me and every other man you find handsome. I’ve seen the way you throw yourself at men.”

Grell laughed. “I flirt,” he said, “I like flirting, and I like sex.” He ran his fingers over William’s chest. “But you’re different.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, for one, I didn’t initially find you attractive.”

William shook his head. “If that is supposed to make me feel better…”

“It’s the truth,” Grell interrupted, “I didn’t think you were ugly, but I didn’t find you particularly handsome. I thought you were boring and weak.” He moved closer; wrapping his arms loosely around William. “Of course, I was wrong, but that’s what makes you different. I actually got to know you. I wasn’t just attracted to your face or you body. I am attracted to you.”

William pushed Grell away. “This doesn’t make sense,” he said, “You annoy me to no end. I push you away, but you just keep coming back. It isn’t rational.”

“Love isn’t rational,” Grell said, “That’s what makes it so exciting.” He leaned forward again until their lips were only a breath apart.

William was the one who made the move as he shoved their mouths together; desperately clinging to Grell. After a moment, he jerked away. “We can’t...not at the office. What if someone comes in?”

“I locked the door,” Grell whispered. It was just like before - just like that time in William’s dorm room. Grell had it all planned out, and William wasn’t even trying to resist. He knew that he should. Not only was this illogical, it could cost his promotion. It could mean an end to all his hard work.

But a small part of him didn’t care.

Grell turned around, and moved the iceberg crystal to the side. “Don’t want to break this,” he said before he sat down on the desk and pulled William to him. 

“We shouldn’t do this,” William said.

“Of course we should,” Grell replied, “After all, we should take the time to...truly make this YOUR office.” He used his left hand to unbutton his shirt as he wrapped his right around William’s shoulder. “Now, come here.”

The time for words was over as William kissed Grell with all the passion he usually kept bottled inside. He swallowed Grell’s moans as he finished unbuttoning the shirt and rubbed Grell’s chest; pausing on the nipples.

“Touch me...all over,” Grell moaned, “Make me yours.” 

“Be quiet,” William said, “or we stop.”

Grell only smiled in response as he leaned back and pulled William down with him. Their lips met and greedily they drank from one and another as desperate hands clawed at clothing that suddenly seemed cloying and unnecessary. William pulled back from Grell’s embrace just long enough to take off his jacket and undo his pants. Grell watched eagerly, but he made no move to remove his own attire. He simply watched and waited for William to undress him.

William obliged as he undid Grell’s pants and pulled them down the redhead’s long legs. The material hung up briefly on Grell’s shoes, but William managed to free them so they could be tossed aside. Grell opened his shirt up more to fully expose his toned chest and abdomen to William, who paused briefly to glance around his office.

“We have nothing to use for lube,’ he mumbled to himself.

“Check the right front pocket of my pants, darling,” Grell said.

William frowned slightly as he retrieved the pants. “You had this planned, didn’t you?” he asked.

Grell only laughed softly in response, but his eyes grew needy as he saw William pull out the lube and spread it on his fingers.

“Not one sound,” William warned, as he rubbed one well coated finger over Grell’s entrance, “if you moan or scream, this ends now. Nod if you understand.”

Grell nodded quickly as he scooted to the edge of the desk and positioned himself. He was almost crying with need as he watched William slip the first finger inside. To his credit, he didn’t moan, but he inhaled deeply as his fingers clawed at the desk.

“Not a word,” William reiterated, as he began to move his finger. His own body ached with desire, but he didn’t want to take things too quickly. While there was always a chance they could be caught, he didn’t want to hurt Grell.

He loved him.

While William had never been the kind to easily put such thoughts into words, he hoped his actions spoke volumes as he carefully prepared Grell - his lover and his love. First one finger and then another. Slow movements; carefully stretching and preparing Grell, who had long since grown fully erect. William couldn’t resist stroking him gently, with almost a feathery touch, and Grell had to swallow a moan quickly to keep from crying out. He was desperate and needy.

And so was William.

Feeling confident that Grell was ready, William removed his fingers and lubed himself before lining up and pushing inside. Just as always this was a feeling beyond that which words could describe. The closest word that William could come up was perfection. These moments between them felt right….felt perfect, and he was always helpless in the moment. Rationality and common sense were tossed out the window as they simply pushed on to their own needs and wants.

William’s pace was steady at first as their bodies sang. Grell kept quiet, although he had bit his lip until it bled. William resisted the urge to lean down and kissed those blood stained lips and he rubbed Grell in tandem with his thrusts. He knew that neither of them would last much longer.

Soon their rhythm became sloppy as their needs grew. Grell moaned softly as he cupped William’s neck with one hand and put the other on top of William’s hand which still stroked him. “I love you,” Grell whispered before he closed his eyes in pure ecstasy. 

William felt Grell tighten around him before his fluids splashed between their bodies. William soon followed as he emptied inside of Grell, but he remained inside for a few moments, their eyes locked, before pulling out.

“That was amazing, as always,” Grell said, as he tried to catch his breath.

William pulled out a handkerchief and cleaned himself up as best as he could. At least he had no meetings for the rest of the day. “Clean yourself up,” he said.

Grell sat up, although he was still a mess. “I think I’ll slip down to the showers,” he said, “I have a fresh change of clothes down there as well. Care to join me?”

“No,” William said, “I have work to do.”

Grell jumped up and grabbed his pants. “You know where to find me if you change your mind,” he offered, as he quickly dressed.

William took a deep breath before walking over and taking hold of Grell’s arm. “No one can know about this,” he said.

“But darling…”

“No buts,” insisted William, “I am now your supervisor, so this could get us both into trouble - especially if anyone was to know anything happened at the office.”

Grell smiled mischievously as he cocked his head. “Okay, darling. I don’t mind being your dirty, little secret - for now. But one day, I’m going to shout our love from the rooftops. You’ll see.” Dressed, he opened the door to leave as someone in the outer office laughed loudly.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The laughter continued; jerking William from his light sleep as the dream of him and Grell faded back into his memories. He sat up quickly and struggled to catch his breath as he looked around him. He was in his office, where he had apparently fallen asleep with his head on the desk. He struggled to fix his mussed hair as he struggled to his feet. His steps were unsteady as he crossed the room and opened the door. Two of his subordinates were standing by one of the desks, and both were laughing without care or concern. One of them, a woman with dark hair pulled back in a high ponytail, had a particularly shrill laugh that seemed to go right through William.

“Excuse me,” William said, “This isn’t a pub or some place to hang out for fun. This is work, and it should be handled seriously.”

The two workers blinked several times in surprise before the woman flushed slightly. “I’m sorry, Mr. Spears.”

“It’s my fault,” announced her companion, whom appeared to be a younger man with prematurely graying hair, “I was telling her a joke.”

William flushed a bit; embarrassed by his outburst. “Just keep thing professional,” he mumbled, as he slunk back into his office. His head was pounding and he rubbed his temples as he looked at his desk, but he didn’t sit down right away.

Hagerman knocked on the open door. “Mr. Spears?”

“What is it, Hagerman?” William asked, without bothering to turn around. He shut his eyes tightly, but the pounding only grew worse. It seemed to fill the space as his tortured his brain.

“Are you okay, sir?” Hagerman took a single step inside the office.

“Fine,” William lied. His own voice seemed lost to the noise in his head. He turned and started to push past Hagerman and out of the office.

“Sir?”

“I have to get out of here,” William said.

“But what about the requests?” Hagerman asked, “It is quiet at the moment, but we are looking over a few that will need your final determination later.”

William paused as he turned to look at Hagerman. “We both know I’m not really needed here,” he stated, “My job here is pointless. Merely a title.” He gave the man a tired smile. “So surely you can bare to part with my presence for a few hours.

He didn’t give Hagerman a time to respond before he turned and all but marched out the quiet department. He walked without purpose or intent - simply the need to escape the pounding in his head. He walked blindly as all his well hid emotions bubbled just beneath the surface.

A part of him wasn’t surprised when he found himself in the science department - standing in front of Wilson’s empty office. Until recently, he had never so much as stepped foot on this floor, but now he felt drawn here again and again. Stepping forward, he pushed open the slightly ajar door and gazed upon the walls covered in clippings and articles. Grell stared down at him once again; a frozen face on his younger face. William slipped into the room and touched the picture of Grell. He almost expected to feel the warmth of Grell’s face.

But the picture was cold and glossy.

Feeling lost and empty, he left the office and walked towards the larger laboratory that Othello had shown him earlier. Perhaps he could hide in that quiet room that Wilson had invented. 

Just as he started to enter the lab, Othello opened the door and gasped audibly when he saw William. He laughed a bit; perhaps to cover his own surprise. “Willy! What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I was just checking on the situation with Wilson. Has anything been heard regarding him?”

Othello shook his head as he shut the door and put his hand on William’s shoulder. “Not a word,” he replied, “I think he’s truly deserted. Maybe we should have been more concerned with him idolizing Silver Fox, but who would have guessed he would do this.”

William shook off the unwanted hand. “Has a search been declared?”

“Not yet, but I think that’s a mistake,” Othello answered, as he pulled out his box of licorice and tossed one in his mouth. “He might try to replicate the old man’s experiments or something,” he said around the candy, “Who knows? Of course, he can’t do everything Silver Fox did.” He swallowed the bite and actually smiled slightly. “Right?”

“What do you mean?” William asked as his hands clenched into fists. The sounds around him seem to recede. He could hear the thumping in his head, which matched by his frantic heart. Othello’s voice even seemed to grow more distant, but William could still hear it. Faintly.

“You know,” Othello said, “He doesn’t have that connection with some human family, nor is he that strong. He won’t be able to fight back.”

“I see,” William said, as he adjusted his glasses. The thumping only softened slightly, and for a moment he felt as if his head would explode. His vision narrowed, and he could feel sweat breaking out across his forehead.  “I suppose I should be going back to my own department,” he began. His voice sounded distant but reasonably strong in his own ears, “but will you keep me informed-”

“And he’d never be able to kill Grell,” Othello interrupted.

William’s hands shot out before he even had time to register his actions. He grabbed Othello by the collar and lifted him up so that the scientist’s feet were only barely touching the floor. “Don’t ever talk about that so lightly,” he growled. Light exploded around him as all he could focus on in that moment was Othello. He wanted to stop him from talking.

Othello’s eyes widened. “Sorry,” he croaked.

William suddenly realized how quiet it had become, and he glanced around to realize that all eyes were upon him. The other scientists were whispering behind their hands and he could hear the buzz of their words. It added to his pounding headache. Their faces seemed exaggerated in size and seemed to swirl about him.  With a loud exhale, William released Othello and practically ran from the science department.

But he couldn’t outrun the whispers.

  
  


* * *

  
  


William’s office was almost his sanctuary, and he all but hid there the rest of the day. No papers crossed his desk, although he was sure there were reports and requests that needed to be signed. For now, it simply appeared that most everyone was avoiding him. Perhaps it was better this way. He sat there, almost motionless with his eyes shut as he willed the pounding in his head to stop if only for a moment.

The clock’s hands were nearing closing hours when a hesitant knock sounded on his door. William was almost relieved. “Come in,” he said.

It was Hagerman once again, but there was no smile upon his face as he opened the door and stepped inside. “This came for you, sir,” he said, as he held up a thick envelope - with the unmistakable stamp of Upper Management.

William’s blood ran cold, but he managed to give Hagerman a brief nod. “Hand it here,” he said, as he held out his own hand.

Hagerman walked over; each step heavy as if he felt a great weight. He put the envelope in William’s hand before turning quickly and leaving William alone with whatever it was that Upper Management had to say.

He looked at the envelope for a few minutes, but he knew there was no real use in delaying. Wordlessly, he tore open the envelope and pulled out the brief letter inside.

  
  


Mr. William T. Spears:

 

It had come to our attention that you engaged in unprofessional behavior, and your ability to perform your job as necessary in now in question. Effective immediately you are suspended from your duties. You are to meet with company Psychiatrist Dr. Bliss tomorrow at 9 a.m. She will determine if and when you are suited to return to work.

 

M. McCoy

Upper Management

 

William read the letter several times, but the words remained unchanged. “Honestly,” he mumbled to himself as he clutched the letter in his hand and left the office.

Perhaps for the final time.


	8. Shattered

_ Chapter 8: Shattered _

 

Dr. Bliss was nothing like William had imagined. While the name itself sounded almost too fitting for a psychiatrist, the images conjured up by William had been that of a stoic man in a perfectly pressed suit. He may smoke a pipe, but every moment and statement would be professional and clipped. His office would be very similar to the man himself - cold, practical, and perfectly in place.

Dr. Bliss and her office were none of these things.

The aforementioned doctor was a small woman whose head was barely as high as William’s chest, and her clothes, while professional, were soft and pastel in color. Above her tiny frame rose a massive and rather impressive mane of curly, dark blonde hair. She smiled readily at William as she gestured him to enter her office. The furniture inside was plush and comfortable, and Dr. Bliss’ love for pastels had extended to the furniture. They walked inside across a plush, sky blue carpet before the doctor gestured to a pale, green chair. She sat down in a pink chair across from him  and propped one slender leg beneath her body. 

“So, what brings you here to see me?” she asked, as William sat down.

“Upper Management,” William replied, “I was ordered to be here, and I’m under suspension until you say I’m fit to return to work.”

“That wasn’t precisely what I meant,” she said, “but all too often the only ones who come to see me are those who have been forced. I find that to be a shame. We all have issues - issues which led most of us here in fact. All of us should feel free to talk if necessary.”

“I never saw any purpose in speaking with anyone before,” William stated, “Talking about things cannot change what has happened.”

Dr. Bliss shrugged. “Nothing can change what has happened,” she agreed, “but sometimes talking about it can make it easier to cope, and it can help for the future.” She turned slightly and removed a file from her desk without standing up. Opening the file, she scanned a few pages. “William T. Spears,” she read aloud, “Average student, but you rose to the position of supervisor in your department quickly, and you have remained in a supervisory position since that time.” She set the file aside. “This is your first suspension,” she said, “and it was given to you due to your behavior in a another department. Right?”

William nodded. “You seem to know all about me, Dr. Bliss.” he said.

“Not everything,” she replied, “So, why don’t you tell me what happened?”

He pulled at the soft material of the chair. “Don’t you already know?”

“I want to hear your side of things,” she answered.

He took a deep breath as he looked past the doctor at a rather relaxing painting of a lake on the wall behind her. “I lost my temper,” he finally said, “I grabbed another reaper by the collar, but it stopped there. I didn’t strike him.”

“I see,” she said, “And why did you lose your temper with this other reaper?”

The air seemed to grow thick around William as he unconsciously gripped the arms of the chair. “He said something that he shouldn’t have.”

“And that was?”

William looked at her steadily. “You certainly ask a lot of questions.”

“I hope so,” she said, with a light laugh, “It’s part of the job description.”

He relaxed his grip on the chair slightly at her joke. “Perhaps I overreacted,” he admitted, “but I was upset at the moment.”

She looked at him curiously for several minutes. “You don’t feel entirely comfortable talking to me, do you?” she asked.

“No.”

“Why is that?”

“I never really liked really talking to anyone,” he said, “People can take your words and turn them around. For example, if I say the wrong thing to you, I won’t be allowed to work or I could even be institutionalized.”

“You misunderstand my purpose here,” she began, “I’m not here to keep you away from work or to lock you away. I’m here to help, and whatever you say will be held in the strictest confidence.”

William looked at her steadily. “If I were to say...certain, incriminating things to you, you wouldn’t report me?”

She raised her hand. “You have my word. You are free to say whatever it is you want to, and I won’t tell anyone.”

He slowly let out a slow breath. “Even if it makes me sound crazy?”

“I don’t particularly like that word, but no. Not even if it makes you sound, as you put it, crazy.”

“I...I’ve been seeing things,” he admitted, “Things I know...couldn’t be there, but still, I see them.”

She leaned forward. “What sort of things.”

His fingers gripped the armrests of his chair once again. “Sutcliff,” he answered; his voice barely above a whisper.

“Sutcliff?” she repeated in a questioning tone before flipping through his file, “Oh, that was the name of the reaper who accompanied you on that mission. He was killed trying to capture the deserter.”

William nodded. “I see him; all bloody and torn. Usually in my room late at night.” He stood up quickly and paced the small office. “He’s just there, even though I know he can’t be, but I see him.” He paused in his frantic words and turned towards Dr. Bliss. “I suppose that makes me crazy.”

She gave him a slight smile. “Not at all.”

He sat down again. “But how? I mean, I just admitted that I’m seeing someone I know can’t be there.””

“Precisely,” she said, “You know that he isn’t really there. You’re quite rational, Mr. Spears, and quite sane.”

“But...I see him.”

“And there is undoubtedly a reason for that, but you still understand the difference in reality and fantasy. Rest assured, you are not ‘crazy.’ I do think we need to find out why you’re seeing him.” She consulted William’s file once more. “You testified at the trial of the deserter, did you not? Was that stressful?”

“Yes.”

She set his file aside and leaned back in his seat. “Did the trial bring up any old memories of feelings?”

William slumped down his seat like a deflated balloon. “Yes.”

“Such as?”

“I...I had to recall that final mission with Gre...Sutcliff. All the details. Things I had forgotten. I had tried to forget.”

“Do you blame yourself for what happened to Sutcliff?”

“In a way, although I know there was nothing I could do. Not really. Still…” His voice trailed off.

“Still? Was there something you wish you would have done differently?” 

William’s eyes slipped down to stare at the rug as his mind drifted back in time.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The room had barely changed. It was still old and worn, yet there was still an effort after all these years to keep it clean and tidy. The simple paintings, bedsheet, and curtains had all been changed at some point, but it was still the same room that William and Grell had shared back when they had been assigned to bring in Johansen. Now it was William’s quarters during his time in the living world while on the search for Undertaker.

Grell’s breathless moans filled the room as he sat on William’s lap; riding him slowly. Their bodies knew each other so well, so each time, each movement was pure perfection. Their foreheads touched so that even without their glasses they could see each other well. William looked at Grell; his face flushed and shining. He gazed at William lovingly through heavily lidded eyes as moans fell from his swollen lips. They were both close, but neither had any desire to hurry. These moments dangling on the precipice of desire were the most precious and the most desirable to them both. They only wanted to cling to each other as their bodies sang the ancient song of love.

It was Grell who slipped over the edge first. He moaned slightly, as his eyes rolled back. Throwing back his head, William had a chance to admire his long neck, and he took the chance to nip the side of it possessively as he felt Grell tighten around him.”Darling,” He gasped desperately, as he came; his fluids spilling between them. William lasted a few more minutes. He almost hated for it to be over, but he too was coming to his limit. His last few thrusts were sloppy before he emptied inside of Grell.

Grell remaned in his lap a few moments, desperately trying to catching his breath, before rolling to the side and flopping on the bed. His chest heaved as he smiled up at the ceiling. “I don’t think I really knew what sex was before you, darling.” he said.

William didn’t reply as he stood up and grabbed a few towels he had set up nearby. He tossed one at Grell, which landed beside him, as he started to clean himself up.

Grell sat up and grabbed the towel, but he made no effort to use it. “I’m serious,” he continued, “I’ve had lovers before, but it was never like it is with you. With us...it feels perfect. Divine.” He laughed. “It’s beyond words.” He stood up and walked over to William. “I love you, darling.”

William pulled up his pants. “You should get dressed,” he said, “Othello said he’d contact me once he found the deserter.”

Grell put his hands on his hips. “Aren’t you going to tell me the same?”

“Tell you what?”

“That you love me,” Grell said, as he batted his eyes, “I tell you I love you all the time, but you’ve never said it to me.”

William continued dressed. “Words are pointless,” he began, “Anyone can say anything, but that doesn’t make it true.”

“But sometimes a lady needs to hear it,” insisted Grell, “I know you love me. You show me that each and every time we are together but I want to hear you say it.” Grell picked up his own pants, and walked towards the bathroom. “One day, you’ll say it, darling. I’ll have you screaming that you love me.” He laughed to himself, as he closed the door.

William looked at the shut door for a few minutes before a slight smile crossed his face. “Maybe I will,” he said to himself.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. “Will?” Othello’s voice cried from the other side. “Undertaker’s been spotted, but I haven’t seen dear Grell. Do you know where he is?”

“I’ll find him,” William yelled back as he finished dressing.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


“Mr. Spears?” Dr. Bliss’s asked; her voice slicing into William’s thoughts.

William blinked a few times. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“It’s okay,” she said, “You just seemed rather lost in thought.”

“I was.”

Dr. Bliss cocked her head to the side like a curious cat. “Would you care telling me what’s on your mind?”

“I...I was thinking of Sutcliff...Grell,” he replied, as he stood up, “There’s one detail I haven’t revealed. In fact, I’ve only told one person before you, but I feel it needs to be said. Grell and I were in a relationship.” With those words, he felt some relief. His headache lessoned and it seemed he could breathe easier. “It wasn’t a grand romance, but it was a relationship. We kept it quiet because…” His voice trailed off as he searched for the words. “I’m not sure,” he admitted, “I used to always say I was afraid that Upper Management would put an end to it because I was his superior, but that’s not the truth. Even if I had convinced myself that it was true, it wasn’t. It was a lie.” He sat down in his chair as he looked over at Dr. Bliss. “We were in a relationship, but I kept it a secret because I was afraid.”

She paused for a moment as she looked at him gently. “Afraid of what?”

“Afraid of being involved. Afraid of having someone depend on me.” William leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. “I was married in my human life, but I was the epitome of a bad husband. I didn’t love my wife. It had been an arranged marriage, but she had done her best to make it work out. I didn’t try as hard. I ignored her. I was cold. In the end, she left me, and I took my life so I wouldn’t have to face the world as a failure.

When I was reborn, I vowed I would truly atone for my sins. My crimes. I didn’t expect to actually care for someone. I was so resistant to the entire idea at first. I denied everything.” He smiled painfully as his fingers toyed with the material of the chair. “I’ve never told anyone all this.” The words tumbled from his mouth with an ease he had never dreamed imaginable. It was as if he had just waiting to say this all along.

“It’s good to talk,” Dr. Bliss said, “Keeping it all in does nothing but not allow us to heal. I’m glad to hear you being so honest with yourself. That’s the first step in-”

“I never told Grell that I cared,” William interrupted.

“What?”

“I never told Grell that I cared for him,” he reiterated, “He could say I love you as casually as talking about the weather, but it was far more difficult for me. He confronted me about this right before...right before he died. I had even decided I was going to show him how much I cared as soon as the assignment was over. I never got the chance.” William lowered his eyes to look at Dr. Bliss. “Do you think that’s what this is all about?”

Dr. Bliss looked at him quizzically. “I’m not sure what you mean?”

“Do you think the reason I’m seeing Grell now is because I feel guilty about not admitting my feelings?”

“It’s possible, I suppose. The mind does work in strange ways sometimes. It appears you felt guilty for a long time, but now you are finally forcing yourself to acknowledge these feelings, which is good.”

“It doesn’t feel good.”

“But it is,” she said, “This is the first step to healing.” She walked over to her desk and quickly wrote something. “I want you to pick this up.” She said, as she handed a piece of paper over to William.

“What’s this? I don’t want any sort of medication.”

“It’s just to help you sleep,” she said, “You need to rest. I’d also like to see you in a few days. Perhaps we can talk some more.”

“Perhaps,” William replied, as he stared down at the prescription. 

She held out her hand. “I’m glad we had this chance to talk,” she said, “I’m sure that you will be able to work through all this. You took some major steps today.”

“Thank you,” he said, as he shook the offered hand.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Night came without fanfare as William sat in his lonely room. The bottle of medication set on his nightstand next to his clock. The bottle itself looked so plain and innocuous, but William found himself staring at it as if it was a poison he was planning to ingest. A part of him certainly didn’t want to take it. While it would undoubtedly help him sleep, he was afraid of some unknown side effects. Plus, he wanted to see Grell again. He knew that was a foolish desire, but he wanted to see Grell just one last time.

Maybe he’d have a chance to say, “I love you.”

After several minutes of indecision, William grabbed the bottle, shook out a single pill, and threw it in his mouth. It was bitter on his tongue as he took a drink of water to wash it down. It was too late to worry about the consequences now. With a resolute look on his face, he lay down in the bed as he waited to grow tired.

At first, his mind was as active as ever as thoughts of Grell danced through his thoughts. “I finally admitted that I loved you,” he whispered, “Did you hear me? I only wished I had told you while you were alive.” He sighed loudly, as he settled deeper into his bed.

Sleep came suddenly. William didn’t try to fight it as he allowed himself to be swept deep beneath the waves of sleep.

William had no idea how long he had slept when he awoke partially in dead of the night. He opened his eyes, and was surprised to see Grell standing at the foot of his bed. He smiled, as he tried to sit up, but his body betrayed him. He only could only lift his up his head, as he looked at his dead love. 

“I’m sooorrry, Greeelll,” he managed, “I...I love...youuuu….”

Grell frantically shook his head, as if not accepting the admission of feelings.

William frowned. “I do...love...you,” he said, “I just...couldn’t...say itttt…”

His head fell back on his power as he was unable to resist the pull of sleep. Just before he drifted away, he heard the distinct sound of something shattering.

He hoped it wasn’t Grell’s heart.


	9. Familiar Faces

_ Chapter 9: Familiar Faces _

 

The first golden rays of the morning sun shone through William’s window and gently caressed his face until he opened his eyes. He had slept through the night and, as he sat up in bed, he found that he felt rather rested. The effects of the medication were wearing off, but his mind felt a bit tired and sluggish. Yawning loudly, he grabbed his glasses and looked over at the clock. It was still early - far too early for someone who had no plans or no place to be. It felt strange, almost alien, for William to have no plans, so he simply sat there for several minutes as he considered what to do.

“I shouldn’t just lie around all day,” he finally said aloud, as he threw back the cover that was still wrapped around his legs. He put his feet on the cold floor and stood up - swaying only slightly. It was a new day, and he was going to face it even if he had no plans.

With another yawn, he walked around his bed as he headed towards the bathroom, but stopped as he looked down at the floor. Undertaker’s file lay on the floor, open and scattered, and the crystal iceberg had been shattered. He frowned as he looked at the mess; distantly remembering the sound of something shattering as he drifted in and out of sleep. He had no idea what could have caused the file and crystal to fall, but he was sad to see that the iceberg had broken.

“Maybe Grell’s finally done with me,” he mumbled to himself as knelt to the floor. He picked up a jagged piece of the broken crystal, but suddenly cried out in pain as it cut his palm. Reflexively, he dropped the crystal and it fell heavily onto the file, as did a few drops of blood. He examined the wound briefly before reaching down and picking up the shard carefully. As he did, his eyes fell upon the page which was now stained with his blood.

And he almost fell backwards in surprise.

With a trembling hand, he picked up the paper and stared in disbelief as his heart pounded. All drowsiness faded as he looked and piece of the puzzle slowly clicked into place.

Just after the incident with Undertaker, Othello had been asked to describe the attacker as he was the only one who had gotten much of a look at him. His description had been turned into a sketch, which was included in the file. Although William had looked at that sketch many times before, he hadn’t done so in years. Had he looked more recently, he might have seen the truth. The face in the sketch bore an uncanny resemblance to Othello’s odd assistant Wilson.

His mind slipped back to when he first met Wilson, and he had thought he had recognized him.

 

_ “Do I know you?” William asked, “You look familiar.”  _

_ “We’ve never met, but of course I look familiar!” the man said, as he reached out and grabbed William’s free hand. He shook it almost violently. “Name’s Wilson,” he said, “Here, let me show you something.” _

 

It was as if Wilson was all but admitting he was the man in the sketch, and he was obsessed with the case. There was no way that this could all be coincidence. Here was a reaper, obsessed with Undertaker, looked uncannily like the attacker who had killed Grell, had been working with an unstable scythe material, and who had invented a room that would allow him to cut through time and space without being detected by Upper Management.

William didn’t take the time to get dressed or even comb his hair. He simply threw a coat over his pajamas and shoved his feet into his shoes. As he rushed out the door, he stuck the broken piece of crystal into his pocket as if it would bring him strength. 

It was still early when he arrived in the main building, so no one was around to see him racing down the hall with his wild hair and coat flying open to reveal his mint green pajamas. He didn’t pause to think how he might look as he rushed down to the science department. No scientists were present as he ran to Othello’s office and threw open the curtain that hid the secret room.

Wilson was inside; standing dumbly as he stared blankly at the floor. His shoulders were slumped and, through his torn clothes, crude stitches were visible. In his right hand, he loosely held a crudely made scythe, which William recognized. In that room stood Grell’s murderer!

William heard a soft noise behind him; the whisper of a soft-soled upon the floor. He started to turn his head, but a bolt of localized pain struck him in the base of the spine. He didn’t even have time to cry out as he fell forward. His face smacked the glass before he slipped down and crumpled to the floor in an unconscious heap.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Darling,” Grell’s voice said, “You need to wake up.”

William opened his eyes and looked about his surroundings. He was in a room, or rather it was _ the _ room; the tiny room in the living world where he had Grell had always seemed to find themselves. He was lying on the floor, and he slowly raised to his knees. Grell was sitting on the nearby bed wearing an old, worn robe. It had undoubtedly been red at one time, but it was faded to a soft pink, and it was only tied loosely at the waist. Most of Grell’s chest was revealed as were his long legs. Despite everything, William felt his eyes traveling along the familiar contours of Grell’s body as he stood.

Grell laughed. “It’s not right to keep a lady waiting, you know.”

William gained his balance and walked over to Grell. “Where am I?” he asked, “Am I…”

“Dead?” Grell finished, “No more than you were before.”

“Then where am I?” he repeated, “I can’t be...here.”

Grell’s smile slipped. “No you can’t,” he said, “Nor can I.” He stood up and put his arms around William’s neck. “But here we are, love. Maybe it’s just so I can give you a message.”

“A message?”

Grell nodded. “You have to be strong now. I know you are. You always were, and that’s one of the things I loved about you, but now you are going to have to be especially strong.”

“Because, I’m about to face the truth, aren’t I?”

Again there was a nod from Grell. “But you have precisely what you need at hand.”

“What do you mean?” William asked, but he realized there was something in his hand. Opening his palm, he saw the jagged piece of crystal he had been carrying with him. He closed his hand again as he looked at Grell.

“Are you real?” William whispered.

With an oddly gentle smile, Grell stood on his tiptoes to kiss William. Afterwards, he only moved back a breath as he held William closely. “Don’t ask questions you know I can’t answer,” he said, “Now, wake up darling. It’s time. Wake up.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


William’s head ached, and he barely suppressed a moan as he opened his eyes and looked around the nearly empty room. To his right there was a large glass window, but it was covered from the outside, which made the room rather dim and eerily silent. As his eyes adjusted, he realized that the bizarre doll of Wilson was standing like a poorly built statue in the center of the room. William gasped, and tried to get up, but he realized his hands had been tied to a chair in which he had been placed. He struggled but the knots, while sloppy, were also quite secure. As he moved, he could feel the piece of the iceberg crystal in his right fist, and he tried to maneuver it in his grasp so he could attempt to cut the rope.

“Are you awake already?” a familiar voice asked, “I would have thought you’d be out for a few more hours, and I have time to do this the easy way.” As spoke, Othello walked from behind the chair and stared down at William.

“What are you doing?” William demanded, as he quickly palmed the crystal. It cut him sightly, but he didn’t want Othello to see what he had been trying to do.

Othello took a few steps across the room; staring down at the floor. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he said, “Any of this. I even reported you in hopes you’d be banned from the department, but I figured that the suspension you received instead would keep you away until this was all over.” He shook his head.

“Until all of what was over?”

“It’s a long story,” Othello said quietly, almost as if he was speaking more to himself, “But it won’t be important for long. Soon, you will have forgotten all about it.” Othello turned and suddenly approached him.

William leaned back in his chair. “What are you going to do me?”

“Just edit your records,” Othello said in a matter of fact tone, “Don’t worry. I’m not going to turn you into a doll or anything. I just want you to forget everything you figured out here.” Othello smiled. “I could even edit your records so you won’t remember how you felt about dear Grell. Ease your mind a bit.”

William’s face paled. “What do you mean how I felt about Grell?”

Othello laughed. “Oh, Willy! You are a terrible liar. Probably because you’ve never had much practice at it.” He paused as he smiled at William. “It wasn’t precisely a secret that something was going on between you two. The day we faced Undertaker, I went to get you from your room. You said you’d find Grell, but I knew he was in there with you. I had seen him go in.” Reaching into his lab coat, he pulled out what looked like a scalpel. “But I can take care of that pain for you.”

“Wait!” William said, “At least tell me what’s really going on here first. I’m still confused. I want to know.”

Othello hesitated. “Well…”

“It won’t matter after you take away my memories, but just explain everything one time to me. How...how could you kill Grell?”

“I never meant to hurt Grell,” Othello said, “In fact, a part of me hopes that this time, Grell isn’t hurt.”

“This time?” William said, as he slowly began to work with the crystal again.

“Yes. You see, we’re caught in some sort of time loop, and this time loop is determined to follow through on the same course of action.”

“I don’t understand.”

Othello sighed as he leaned against the far wall. “It’s rather complicated,” he began, as he slid to the floor, “In fact, I wouldn’t have even believed any of this to really be possible until the other day. It was Wilson who first figured it all out.”

Othello scratched his head; his attention no longer on William at all. “Wilson loved to point out how much he looked like the sketch of the bizarre doll attacker,” he explained, “I just thought it was some sort of crazy coincidence.”

“You didn’t recognize him?” William asked.

“No. I only saw him briefly for a minute that day, and I’m lousy at faces. Wilson was the one who noticed and told me. Still, I thought nothing of it. I left Wilson alone for the most part because I did like some of his inventions. I thought he was harmless even if he was more than a little eccentric. Then you asked me to check on that alloy.”

Othello stretched his legs and he appeared to be studying at his sandals. “I found what he had been working on and tested it. At first, it seemed fine, but then I found it could become unstable and blow up in the wrong conditions. It tore my coat, and I went to tell you that it wasn’t safe.”

“I remember that,” William said.

“I came back here to confront Wilson, but I didn’t see him at first. I waited in the lab, and even took the time to sew my coat, even though I was never good at things like that. I was sitting in a chair and at some point, I must have drifted asleep…”

  
  


* * *

  
  


The door to the lab opened with a loud squeak, which woke Othello up with a start. With bleary eyes, he looked up only to see Wilson sneaking into the room. “Where have you been?” Othello asked, as he stretched.

“Just working on an experiment,” Wilson answered, as he walked towards the sealed room, “Might be done soon.” In his hand, he was carrying a few scythes that he had obviously just forged himself. One looked like a crude, traditional sycle, but the other one looked much like Undertaker’s famous scythe.

Othello stood up from his seat. “You need to discontinue the experiments on the alloy. It’s dangerous.”

“Not if you know how to handle it,” Wilson replied.

“It is dangerous,” Othello reiterated, “Look what it did to my coat earlier?”

At first Wilson only glanced casually at the coat, but soon his eyes grew wide as his face paled. “It’s you,” he said, as he took a few steps away from Othello and towards the open door to the. “It was always you.”

“What are you talking about?” Othello asked, as he walked closer, “What’s me?”

Wilson retreated into the room. “Stay back! I won’t let you turn me into a doll again! I recognize those stitches!” He swung the scythe in front of him. “Why did you do it?” he asked, “Did Undertaker know something or were you just trying to kill Sutcliff?”

“You’re crazy,” Othello said.

Wilson wasn’t listening as he swung the scythe wildly and started drawing too much power. It was as if he had forgotten his own words about control, and Othello saw that it was about to explode. Thinking quickly, he jumped forward and shut the door to the room.

While he could see the explosion through the glass, he couldn’t hear it.

After the smoke cleared, Wilson lay on the floor with his records in shattered. There weren’t so many destroyed that he would die. In fact, there was enough for him to be made into a suitable doll.

 

 

* * *

  
  


“Wilson wasn’t so crazy,” William said at the conclusion of the story.

“I guess not,” Othello agreed, “He was right about the stitches. I was able to see that much. Back when I first found Wilson’s severed leg, I just thought Silver Fox had been in a hurry. I cannot believe I couldn’t see it was my own handiwork. Maybe I just didn’t want to believe it.” He laughed as stared up at the ceiling. “But I did have to accept it. I was the one who set everything in motion. I was the one who killed Grell.”

“But why?” William asked, “Why would you do all this?”

“I’m not sure,” Othello said, “I don’t have a reason now. Maybe another me did.”

William looked at him quizzically because that didn’t seem to make sense. “Another you? I don’t understand.”

There was a long sigh from Othello. “It’s always been theorized there are other timelines; other versions of reality with only minor differences. Of course, it was always just a theory. No real way to test that. Well, there is considering we can cut through time, but that’s strictly forbidden and monitored.” Othello seemed to be talking more to himself, and William used the opportunity to cut at the ropes.

“I would have no reason to send anyone back in time,” Othello continued, “Everything is fine now. Not perfect, but it’s fine for me. I have my lab and experiments. But...maybe Silver Fox talked in some other timeline, or they saw his records.”

There was a few minutes of silence, and it hung awkwardly in the room. Finally, William spoke up in hopes of keeping Othello talking. “What would it matter if he talked or if they saw his records?”

“I’ve had my share of...experiments from time to time. Silver Fox learned about some of them, but he was involved in own issues. That’s one reason we turned a blind eye to each other. When he deserted, I figured it wasn’t a problem. I thought that he was ever caught, I’d just edit his memories. Make some excuse like I was studying him. Maybe, I wasn’t able to do that for some reason. That’s the only thing I can think of.” He slowly stood up and looked at William.

“Even if that’s all true,” William said, “that doesn’t mean you have to do it again. You said yourself that you have no reason now. Don’t send Wilson back. You turned him into a doll, but you don’t have to send him back in time. End the cycle.”

“I don’t think I can do that,” Othello said, “Don’t you see, this  _ has _ to happen! It’s like everything is just lining up perfectly - falling into place. It’s supposed to happen like this. Haven’t you noticed the paradoxes?”

“No. What paradoxes?”

“Wilson was obsessed with the case only because he looked like the sketch. He said as much to me once. Because he was obsessed, he began trying to recreate the scythe - but he was only able to do that because we had a shard of the original scythe. Don’t you see? If Wilson had never traveled back in time, he couldn’t have left a shard of his scythe that he used to create the scythe he used in the past? Then that same scythe cuts up his memories, meaning the only purpose he can serve now is as a doll.  It’s a bizarre loop.”

“But we can break the loop,” insisted William.

“We don’t know what will happen if we do,” Othello replied, “This entire timeline could be erased. We could all be erased. I’m all for experiments, but not when my life is on the line.” He sighed loudly as he turned and took a few steps towards William. “It’s time,” he said simply.

The doll seemed to be waiting for those words as he suddenly used his crude scythe to create a portal. With a single shakey step, it stepped through the portal and disappeared.

“No!” William yelled, “You don’t have to do this!” Even as he yelled, the portal closed leaving him alone with Othello.

“You’re wrong,” Othello said, “I do have to do this. I’ve explained this. If I don’t, this entire time could cease to exist.” He took the final steps closer to William. “Now, enough stalling. It’s time for me to edit your records so you can forget all about this.” He took the final step towards William.

Much of the rope holding down his right hand had been frayed and torn by this point. William jerked his arm upward, and the rope gave way. Othello only had time to stare in shock as William’s fist made direct contact with Othello’s jaw. The scientist was sent reeling backwards in a crumpled heap, and William quickly untied his left hand. The crystal had been shattered completely by the force of his punch, and the tiny fragments fell to the floor.

He stood up and summoned his scythe to him. Power rippled around his body as all his energy was focused on one particular day - one particular moment. The power shattered the glass window so that the room was no longer sealed.

A portal appeared in front of William, and he knew exactly where it led. Glancing down at Othello, he said, “Maybe this timeline shouldn’t exist.” With those words, he stepped forward...and into the past.


	10. Changes and Consequences

_Chapter 10: Changes and Consequences_

 

Othello laid on the floor for a moment; stunned by both the blow as well as the events that had just played out before his eyes. He had never expected this - never planned for it. He had always prided himself on planning for every possible scenario, but this time he had failed. Slowly, be began to pick himself up off the floor as he wondered what the outcome of William’s traveling back in time might be.

An alarm suddenly sounded, and Othello jumped as he spun around to look at the red flashing light upon the wall. He scratched his head as he realized that William had triggered the alarm when he had created a portal after smashing out the windows. Othello had very little time to react or to even think as he knocked the dust off his clothes and wandered back into the main part of the lab.

He didn’t have to wait long. A tall man with short cut hair so black it almost appeared blue stepped into the room. His suit was expertly tailored and managed to compliment his somewhat lanky frame as his cold eyes looked about the lab before his gaze settled onto Othello, who was now leaning on a desk. Before he said a word, Othello knew that this man was Upper Management. He almost stank of it.

“What happened here?” he demanded without any sort of introduction. As he spoke, several other men stomped into the room, and Othello felt his face grow pale. These men weren’t wearing the typical suits but were dressed in thick protective gear and carried weapons. They were guards, and they seemed ready to fight.

“It was Willy...William!” Othello said, “William T. Spears. He’s gone crazy.” The words simply spilled from his lips. He couldn’t say that nothing had happened after the alarm had been triggered. He had to come up with a plausible story.

“Crazy? How so?” the man asked.

“He’s been upset about what about to Grell...Grell Sutcliff” Othello explained, “All these trials and executions brought it all back. He asked me about it the other day, and became violent when I told him that the past couldn’t be changed.” It fit enough with the story he had told to get William suspended. No one would even question. “He broke into my lab early this morning. I arrived just in time to try and stop him, but he attacked me again. See?” He pointed to his bruised jaw.

“What did he do?”

“He...I think he managed to create a portal to travel back in time,” Othello replied, “He was here and there was this massive power surge from his scythe. Then he created a portal and just vanished.” He fiddled with his hands as he spoke; the nervousness not really a part of his act.

There a mummer of voices as the guards whispered to one another. Some of there questions were faintly audible. “Could he have done that?” one asked, “I didn’t know that was possible,” stated another.

The man from Upper Management held up his hand and all the mumbling ceased immediately. “If this is true,” he said, “then there’s nothing we can do. All so called time travel is strictly forbidden and carries the penalty of death.” He shook his head before pointing towards Othello. “Come with us,” he said, “We have more questions for you.”

Othello nodded meekly as he stepped towards the man.

 

 

* * *

  


Cold.

That’s the first sensation William was truly aware of as he traveled through the portal. Usually, the trip was instantaneous. You went from one destination to the next with barely enough time for the trip to even register. It was like stepping through a doorway from one to another, but this time it was different. Perhaps it was because he had a longer distance to travel. He wasn’t simply moving between locations or realms, he was actually traveling back in time.

At least he hoped that he was.

His movements were slow and labored and felt as if he was moving through a thick, dense soup, but he could see the light of the next portal. His destination was at hand, and soon he would learn if he traveled to the right destination and time. Soon he would learn whether or not he could do anything about a past he had always felt shouldn’t have happened. Othello had been right that almost nothing was known about traveling to the past and attempting to alter the events. It could mean the end of their reality.

But right now, William was ready to choose Grell over reality. For once in his life, he was acting selfishly.

A brilliant light filled the area, and blinded him until that he couldn’t look towards his destination, but still he moved through the portal with slow, determined steps. The air cut and stung, but he was not be deterred as he took that final step and found himself falling forward into a soft pile of snow.

Jumping to his feet, he looked around the snowy landscape. He had gone back to that day. In the distance, he could see Undertaker standing in the middle of the field with his black cloak flapping about his body. Farther off, he could see himself...and Grell. For a minute, he could only stand and stare as he stared at Grell; a singular spot of color on the bleak landscape. Although he was too far to hear anything that was said, he knew that he and Grell were briefly discussing a head-on attack.

There was a movement to his left, and he turned to see Bizarre Doll Wilson starting his own charge. There was no time to contemplate or think. There was only time for action. Tightening his grip on his scythe, William moved to block Wilson’s back.

“Not this time,” he growled, “You will not interfere this time. I’ll see to that.”

Wilson didn’t respond verbally. It wasn’t clear if he could even speak, but he brought his scythe about in a clumsy, sweeping motion, which William deftly dodged before he brought his own scythe about. Wilson tried to move out the way, but the blade caught him slightly in the arm. There was no registering on pain on the emotionless face of the doll, but a few scattered records did spill forth. William witnessed the first time Wilson had heard the story of the capture of Undertaker, and how he had been hooked for that moment on. It became his life’s work, and it ultimately led his second death.

There was a cry on the field behind him, and William glanced back to see what was happening. That momentary distraction was all Wilson needed to attack, and he lunged at William. There was no time to fully dodge, but William moved enough so that it caught him in the shoulder instead of the chest. William grimaced as his own records began to fill the sky. For the briefest of moments, he took the time to look at those memories, which were filled with Grell. These were good memories. The kind you wouldn't want to let go of.

Wilson lunged forward again with the obvious intention of destroying the records, but William acted quickly. He reached up and wrapped the records around his arm almost like armor, and allowed the memories to flow back into him. He smiled as he brought his scythe around.

“No one is going to take away my memories,” he said, as his own scythe’s aim was true. He cut off Wilson’s head with one quick, brutal movement. The head fell to the ground with a sickening plop; the blood staining the once virginal snow crimson. The body swayed briefly before it also slumped to the ground.

Wilson’s discarded scythe began to crackle with an overcharge of power, and it was clear that it was about to explode. With no time to dispose of it properly, William grabbed the scythe and threw it with all of his strength straight into the air. He watched soaring up towards the sky; exploding safely up into the heavens.

He looked again at the field. Undertaker appeared to be subdued, although it was difficult to tell at this distance. The demon and his master had retreated, and he, the past version of him, was standing over Undertaker. Perhaps this previous William was lecturing the deserter.

Grell was looking directly at him. He was ignoring Undertaker and the William that belonged in this time. Instead, he was looking directly at the version of his lover that had literally crossed through time to make things right. They were too far apart to see each other clearly, but William smiled all the same.

“I love you,” he said, and a part of him felt like Grell understood. After another minute, William turned and walked away; disappearing into the nearby woods. There was nothing for him here now. He could only hope that he had truly been able to change things for the better. Once out of sight, he created a new portal and returned to his own time.

Ready to face the consequences.

 

 

* * *

 

 

William sat quietly in his cell, staring out the small window and the meager light that managed to filter though the tiny square. His world had become gray with singularly monotone walls, thin blanket, and even his clothes. Had it not been for that tiny spot of color remaining in his world, he would have thought he had gone color blind. Turning his head, he looked to the corner of his cell at Grell, who was standing there as always. Grell smiled at him wordlessly, and William almost managed a smile back. No longer was Grell bloody and torn to shreds. If it was not for the fact that Grell knew he was dead, William could have sworn his lover had never looked more alive and well. William had a feeling he’d be seeing him, truly seeing him, very soon.

A guard came to the door. He was a young man with platinum hair and matching eyelashes that were quite long. His uniform was well ironed and fit him perfectly, but with his youthful features, he looked more like a little boy playing dress up than an actual guard. For the briefest of moments, the young guard fiddled with the door before opening it. “You have a visitor,” he said, as he stepped back. He put his hand on the butt of his weapon; a scythe specifically designed to be used against reapers, as he waited.

William stood and walked steadily to the door. He had long since learned not to make any jerky or sudden movements, but he hadn’t been prone to doing so in the past either. He kept his eyes straight ahead as he stepped out of his cell and allowed himself to be handcuffed before the guard shut the cell door.

“Let’s go,” the guard said, as he stepped behind William.

It was peculiar that he wasn’t being led by at least two guards, which was the custom, but he said nothing about that fact as he walked down the hall and towards the visitation rooms. It hadn’t been that long since he had sat in one of the rooms as a visitor as he talked to Undertaker. Now, he was the prisoner, and he was the one that was scheduled to die the next day. It was interesting how roles could be so quickly reversed.

He turned the corner and looked through the thick, glass that lined the walls of the room. To his surprise, he saw Ronald sitting nervously in one of the rooms. He was tapping both of his feet and hands, but stopped suddenly when he saw William approaching. Ronald started to stand, but a guard in the room told him to sit. William could barely hear the words, but he knew the drill. He walked to the room and waited once more as the door was unlocked. The other guard in the room, the woman who had led William here in the past, only briefly glanced at him before she walked towards the door.

“Ten minutes,” she said, “and don’t try anything.”

“We won’t,” William replied, as he stepped past her and sat down at the table across from Ronald.

The guard nodded and stepped out of the room; locking the door behind her. They were just outside of the door and watching everything that was happening, but Ronald still let out a long sigh of relief.

“I don’t see how you get used to being watched all the time,” he said, “It would drive me dotty.”

“It never really bothered me,” William said, “and I won’t have to put up with it for much longer.”

Ronald frowned darkly. “I wish you wouldn’t say things like that. I don’t like thinking...about that.”

“I’m sorry,” William apologized, “What would you like to talk about?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know why I came. I...I think I just wanted…I don’t know…”

“Closure?” William suggested.

“I guess.” Ronald slapped the table with his open palms. “This doesn’t seem right. You’re being executed, and it’s all because you were trying to change what Othello did.”

“You know about that?” William asked, “I know that’s what I told the authorities, but I wasn’t sure if the story would get out to the general public.”

Ronald nodded. “Othello tried to sell you out. Told everyone that you were crazy and that you just had this plan to save Grell. But then you told them about Wilson when you got back. From what I understand they tried to crack Othello for days, and then they finally looked at his records. At least, that’s what was reported. Anyway, when they saw what had really happened, Othello was locked up as well. I’m surprised you hadn’t seen him or at least heard about it.”

“I would think that there’s been an effort to keep up apart,” William said, “Although I’m not sure why all this information wasn’t relayed to me at some point.”

“Maybe they thought you’d be mad or something,” Ronald said, “I mean, they know why you did what you did and they’re still going to execute you. It’s not fair.”

“I don’t worry about whether it is fair or not. I went back to save Grell knowing that would be my punishment. I even returned to this time. I could have stayed in the past or picked some other time to inhabit. I wouldn’t have been punished, but I returned here.”

Ronald leaned forward. “Why?”

William shook his head. “I was hoping that things would be different here. I thought that perhaps I’d return to find Grell alive and well, but it appears that I only changed the past. As Othello would put it, I changed another timeline, but that does give me some hope.”

“Hope? What do you mean?”

“I did save Grell. I know that. I made brief eye contact with him after stopping Wilson.” He leaned back in his chair as he spoke. “And I know that I was considering telling Grell of my feelings before all that. My hope is that in that timeline, I take the opportunity to talk to Grell. I can imagine what might have happened after that. We might have had a great life together.”

Ronald listened quietly. “Still doesn’t seem fair to you - the you that’s here right now,” he said.

William held up his hand. “You said that Othello’s been imprisoned. What has he been charged with?”

“I’m not sure, He was arrested, but there hasn’t been a trial yet or anything.” Ronald sighed. “Are you sure you’re okay with all this? I mean, I still don’t think it’s right.”

“What are you suggesting, Knox? Want to bust me out?” William shook his head. “Yes, I’m okay with all this. I will be executed tomorrow, but don’t worry about me. I knew the consequences. Besides…” His voice trailed off.

“Besides?”

William looked at Ronald steadily. “I think I’ll be with Grell soon,” he said.

Ronald had no response as the guards came into the room and guided William back to his cell.

 

* * *

  
  


The day of William’s execution was a particularly gloomy, gray day. It was as if their entire realm was mourning this event, although no one dared to speak those words aloud. Just as with Undertaker, most everyone was given half a day, but this time most chose to spend that time at home or with friends rather than watching the actual execution. It appeared that very few had the heart to watch another death.

Ronald sat quietly at his desk; staring down at the accumulated paperwork without actually seeing any of it. “It’s not fair,” he said to himself.

“What’s not fair?” a soft voice asked.

Ronald turned his head and afforded a young woman with long, black hair a smile that almost immediately faded. “You know,” he said, “All...this.” He waved his hands as he turned back around. “First Senior Sutcliff is murdered, and now Mr. Spears is going to be executed for trying to save him.” He leaned back, and allowed her to wrap her arms loosely about his shoulders. “I thought true love was supposed to win in the end or something, but maybe that’s just fairy tales. What do you think, Molly?”

Molly shook her head. “It isn’t just fairy tales,” she said, “Maybe...maybe this is the only way for them to be together.”

Ronald tilted his head back to look up at her. “What do you mean?”

“You said that Mr. Spears went back in time and actually saved Sutcliff, but nothing changed here.”

“Right.”

“Well, maybe the only way for Spears to be reunited with Sutcliff is to move to whatever existence is fated for reapers to die.”

Ronald mused on the thought for a few minutes. “Maybe you’re right,” he said, “but I still wish they could have been reunited in this realm.” He stood up and grabbed his jacket. “I guess, I miss them. I think that is what’s really bothering me.” He held out his arm. “Ready to go?”

Molly took the offered arm. “Where are we going?”

“I’m not sure,” Ronald admitted, “but I want to go someplace where we can celebrate life - this life, and the time we have together.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Molly said, as they walked out of Dispatch together.

  


* * *

  


The execution of William T. Spears became something of a legend. He remained stoic and calm right up until the end, unlike Othello who pouted and moped every day of sentence until his eventual release.  No, William was different. He was unlike anything this realm had ever seen before.

On the actual day, he had been marched out before the meager crowd without any fear or hesitation. He simply stared straight ahead, and nodded at the sight of spot where he would take his last breath. The guard who stood by his side would later say that it sounded as if William had whispered, “Grell,” before stepping forward. He would state that it was as if William was walking towards Grell rather than the sharp scythe that would slice though his body and records.

William’s stride had been steady and his demeanor almost cold as he took those final steps. He was so strong - almost icy. So solid and unmovable.

He was an iceberg.


End file.
